Harry, er, Malcolm and the Sorcerer's Stone
by HiBob
Summary: Baby Harry is sent to the States to live with his half-uncle, Hal. WARNING: I couldn't decide who Malcolm should meet first so I wrote it both ways. Chapters 4 thru 11, he meets Ron. Chapters 12 thru 18, he meets Hermione. You have been warned.
1. The Boy Who Lived

HARRY, ER, MALCOLM AND THE SORCERERS STONE

The following story is for the fans of the Hogwarts in the Middle story, and it's sequels, as it has become obvious that the next book will not come out for some time. The premise of the story is obvious. Instead of being sent to live with the Dursleys, the hero of our story is sent instead to live with his American half-uncle. The purpose of this story is to show that growing up in a closet is not necessarily a bad thing once you consider the alternatives.

This is a Crossover Story between the TV series 'Malcolm in the Middle' and the JK Rowling books on 'Harry Potter.' It is obvious to everyone that I own none of the rights to either of these. That's why you're reading it for free on the internet as opposed to paying more than it's worth to buy the book.

For those of you who are curious, the following is a list of the prominent Characters in the story.

Malcolm is the main character. He starts out as Harry but that soon changes. Like his birth father he is exceptional bright. Not that it makes any difference at home.

Hal is his father. He puts the milk in Milquetoast. The bravest thing he ever did was not that big a deal. Hal is a lover, not a fighter. That is why Lois loves him. That is also why the children spend so much time out of doors without proper supervision.

Lois is his mother. She is a control freak. She wants to be in charge of everything. To make things worse, she sprinkles every domineering tactic with an ounce of love. She really believes she is doing it for your own good.

Reese is Malcolm's older brother. He knows that Malcolm is smarter than him. He knows that almost everyone is smarter than him. He also knows that most of them are afraid of being hit by him.

Dewey is Malcolm's younger brother. He is most often described as being at that stage between toddler and hamster. While he may seem odd, under closer observation he will clearly confuse you.

Francis is Malcolm's oldest brother. He was sent away to Marlin Academy, a military school, for no good reason. As he readily points out, "it wasn't even our car."

Ron Weasley is tall gangly and wizard-born. He becomes Malcolm's best friend. Their main shared interest turns out to be the wizard sport, Quidditch.

Hermione Granger, unlike Ron, is muggle-born, meaning that both her parents are normal (not magical). She is smart, bossy and argumentative. That she and Malcolm become friends is a given. It won't be until years later that he realizes that, except for age and experience, Hermione is exactly like Lois.

Neville Longbottom is kind of a friend. He tends to be clumsy and forgetful but he usually is the one to unite everyone in a close knit group. It doesn't help that the reason is to hunt for his toad, Trevor.

Albus Dumbledore is the father figure of the story. He is also the headmaster of the school. He knows everything and is always prepared to handle every situation. He is also considered very wise. This is because he doesn't try to control a school full of children with magical powers. He knows it is easier to let them learn from their own mistakes.

Hedwig is the owl that Harry was given as a birthday present. Many people will notice that Malcolm is not given an owl as a birthday present. The reason is obvious. Putting an owl in Malcolm's care would be like sending Harry off to live with a bunch of Americans. He'd be better off living in a closet. If you don't believe me, read the story.

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived

It was almost Midnight when the old man appeared on the suburban street. He looked like a relic from the sixties with his robes and his long flowing hair. Carefully he pulled a strange device out of one of his pockets and pointed it at the nearest streetlight. He pressed the trigger and the light from the lamp flew out in a glowing ball to be absorbed by the device. One by one he put out all of the streetlights, leaving the block in complete darkness.

"Are you sure about this, Professor Dumbledore?" asked a severe looking woman in an emerald green cloak as she suddenly appeared.

"You have convinced me, Professor McGonagall. The other relatives were too much of the wrong sort, and Lily's half-brother has enough of the family blood for the protective spells to work. He could not possibly be worse than Petunia Dursley."

"I shouldn't complain," Professor McGonagall said. "After all, it was my idea. But I did not realize he was American when I made the suggestion."

"It is too late to change things now," Dumbledore said consolingly. "But this will give Harry the chance to grow up away from the fame that has already gathered around his name."

"I hope you are right," McGonagall said as the sound of a motorcycle could be heard in the distance.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Here comes Hagrid, now."

A motorcycle flew out of the clouds and landed on the unkempt lawn in front of the house, almost knocking down the 'for sale' sign on the lawn of the house next door.

"Sorry, I'm late, Professor Dumbledore, Sir," Hagrid said as he dismounted. "Had to stop in Nova Scotia to give the wee lad a change. But he's sleeping again, all nice and clean."

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall grinned at the thought of the giant changing a baby's nappies, but Albus noticed tears forming as Hagrid held out the sleeping bundle.

"There, there, Hagrid." Dumbledore consoled the giant as he took the baby from him. "It isn't really goodbye."

"I know, Sir," Hagrid said as he wiped his eyes. "But I'll still miss him."

Dumbledore took the sleeping baby wrapped in the blanket and gently laid him on the doorstep. He reached into his robes pulling out a letter of explanation and placing it next to the boy.

"Good Luck, Harry . . ."

The door opened.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? IS THAT A BABY? OH MY GOD! IT IS A BABY. HAL, CALL THE POLICE."

"This is not what it seems, Madam," Professor McGonagall said quickly as Dumbledore picked up little Harry.

"It isn't? Do you expect me to believe that you weren't going to leave that baby on my doorstep? What kind of sick people are you anyway?"

"We are friends of your nephew's late parents," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Lois," Hal called from inside, "the police are on their way."

"I would like to explain this," Dumbledore said calmly.

"You will," Lois hissed. "As soon as the cops get here."

"About your nephew," Dumbledore insisted.

"LET THE MAN TALK," Hagrid bellowed.

"SHUT THE HELL UP," a neighbor bellowed in return.

"MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS," Lois shouted in response, then she turned to Hagrid. "Like I would listen to you, you overgrown oaf. I suppose it was your idea to park your bike on our lawn."

"As though anyone would notice," Hagrid growled back. "Have ye ever thought to clean up around here?"

"Are you criticizing me?" Lois snapped back. "Francis, get away from that bike. Hal, get Francis."

"I wanna ride," six-year-old Francis yelled as Hal grabbed him. "I wanna ride. I WANNA RIDE."

"Is that a custom Harley?" Hal asked while he held on to the screaming boy.

"I don't really know," Hagrid admitted. "I borrowed it from a friend."

Harry started crying at this point, awakened by the noise coupled with the sound of a police siren.

"This is ridiculous," Minerva McGonagall muttered. "Hagrid, let the boy sit on the motorbike if it will shut him up." Francis mollified, she turned to Dumbledore and took the baby from him, trying to calm him down. "Madam, this is your nephew. His parents died recently and we have come to deliver the child to your husband as his closest acceptable relative. If you don't want him, we'll take him somewhere else, but they won't want him either."

"Hal?" Lois asked, stunned by the forceful revelation.

"Whose kid is this?" Hal asked while Hagrid was left to mind a now happy Francis.

"He is the only child of your sister, Lily Evans, by your mother's second husband," Albus answered. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Mom sent a picture years ago, before she died. Didn't Lily have a sister?"

"She wasn't interested," Minerva said as Harry continued to make noise.

Lois groaned and held her hands out. "Give me the kid or he'll never stop crying. You don't have any children. That much is obvious."

McGonagall was offended but handed Harry over. She was even more offended when Harry stopped crying almost instantly.

"That wouldn't happen if it where one of our own kids," Hal told her consolingly.

"What happened to him?" Lois asked as she noticed the scar on the baby's head.

"It was from the accident that killed his parents," Albus noted. "It was his only injury." He held out the letter. "This explains everything, but I must ask if you will take him in."

"What's the trouble this time?" the policeman asked as he walked up. He eyed the blond boy on the motorcycle. "Did your kid steal this bike?"

Dumbledore gave Lois a pleading look. She turned to Hal who was still admiring the baby.

"Oh," Lois said as though she suddenly remembered what was going on. "It's that big jerk there. I can't get him to park that bike in the street."

"Right," the officer said with annoyance, carefully eyeing the old hippie and his girlfriend. Then he turned to the giant. "Hey You, Yeah, the Larry Byrd lookalike. Move that bike to the pavement or I'll move it to the impound lot."

Hagrid grumbled and picked up the motorcycle, setting it down in the street behind the police car. Meanwhile Francis was still playing with the handlebars and going, "Vrooom, Vrooom."

"Thank you," the police officer said, then turned to Lois. "Is there anything else?"

"All the street lights are out," Hal noted.

"I'll tell the power company," the officer said as he climbed in his car and drove away.

"Thank you," Albus Dumbledore said appreciatively.

"We're not done yet, Mister," Lois said. "I need his papers."

"He don't have papers," Hagrid said angrily. "He's a boy, not a puppy. I have his nappies righ' here."

"Hagrid," Dumbledore explained, "I think the woman means legal papers. His birth certificate for example."

"Oh," Hagrid said sheepishly.

"Then you will accept him?" Albus asked Lois.

"Honey?" Hal said hopefully.

Lois looked down at the boy now sleeping in her arms and thought how beautiful he looked. "Hal, where's Francis?"

"He crawled into the police car. Don't worry. They'll bring him back."

"Why not," Lois replied. "He can't be any worse then the two we've already got."

After they closed the door on the three strangers, Hal put his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"We can even adopt him," Hal suggested. "That way he'll really be our son."

"Hal, that's a wonderful idea. And we can even give him a new name. Harry is such a stupid name. Don't you think?"

"You're just saying that because of your sister's husband."

"No, I'm not. I'd think it was a stupid name even if I never met that moron."

Hal heard the sound of the motorcycle as it started up and it reminded him of his favorite Racing Car Driver. "Honey, I know what we can call him."

* * *

The one-year-old boy was adopted with little difficulty and they named him Malcolm. With as little difficulty, he blended right in with the rest of the family, much to his parents' dismay. He had a normal childhood for the most part although there were a few unsettling incidents. 

Lois was listening to Reese tease three year old Malcolm that only stupid kids had black hair. She turned around when she heard Reese yell and saw that Malcolm's hair had changed to brown, the same brown as hers. It was as though it happened by magic. She punished Reese for playing with her hair dye, and Malcolm had to take five baths before Lois would admit that the color wouldn't wash out.

When Malcolm was five, they took the boys to the zoo, and Reese somehow ended up in the monkey cage despite the fact that a padlock was on the door. Lois assumed Malcolm had tricked him into doing it and he was punished for lying to his brother. Reese was punished as well for refusing to leave the bananas behind when the zoo personnel tried to extract him from the cage. It was as though Reese had been transported inside the cage magically.

Then there was the time when Hal's company gave him insurance coverage. Hal and Lois took Malcolm to the eye doctor for his birthday to get contact lenses. As they were leaving, some boy shouted, "Hey four-eyes, what happened to your glasses?" Almost immediately, a loud thump was heard as the boy fell to the ground grunting with pain. Reese was then heard to say, "Do you want some more, butt breath?"

Hal turned to his wife. "Did you hear that, Lois? Reese stuck up for Malcolm. It must have been magic. There's no other explanation."

Because of that one incident, both parents believed that magic was real.

_The truth is that magic had nothing to do with it. By telling people he was standing up for me, Reese had the perfect excuse to pound on almost anybody. But if Mom and Dad want to believe magic is real, that's fine by me._


	2. The Letter For No One

Chapter Two: The Letter For No One

Ten years later, the sun rose on a house and yard which were an embarrassment to the rest of the neighborhood.

"Reese, Malcolm, Dewey, get in here for breakfast," Lois called. "There are only two toaster waffles so one of you has to have cereal."

"Don't push me." "You pushed me." "I told you not to shove me." "Let me get some." "You cheated."

"Honey," Hal said as he walked in the kitchen. "I found this letter in the mailbox. The address is right but it's for someone named Harry . . ."

"Oh that," Lois said. "Just put it back for the mailman."

"He's not going to do anything," Hal insisted. "He never does. I'll just throw it out."

"Fine, whatever," Lois said.

* * *

Hal walked in the next day, with the mail. "Honey, I've got the gas bill, the electric bill, the phone bill, it's pretty thick . . ."

"That Francis," Lois said angrily. "I told him to stop charging phone calls to this number."

"And we have another letter for that guy, Harry."

"Just toss it, Hal."

"Mom, don't do that," Malcolm said.

"And why not?"

"Look at how thick that paper is. I bet it will burn great. We can put it in the fireplace."

Hal perked up. "That's a good idea, son. We'll check it out." After they were done, Hal admitted that it did burn well. "Too bad we don't have more letters."

* * *

There was a knock on the door, and Lois answered. The mailman was there.

"I've got four letters for you. You need to sign for them."

Lois signed, and took the four letters. "Hey, wait a minute. These aren't for us."

The mailman either didn't hear, or ignored her, and kept walking. Lois shrugged. She gave them to Malcolm to put by the fireplace. Hal could have another short fire when he got home.

But the letters did not stop. The next day, there were eight letters, the following day there were twenty, then fifty. Hal was ecstatic. He was able to keep a fire going in the fireplace for almost half an hour.

On Sunday, Hal and Malcolm were actually disappointed. There was no mail that day and they had no hope of using the fireplace. The idea of buying wood never occurred to either of them. To be truthful it had occurred to Malcolm but even Reese agreed it was stupid to pay for something you were just going to set fire to. Unless it exploded.

Hal was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper, while Lois was trying to clean up. Reese, Malcolm and Dewey were sitting in front of the TV watching wrestling. And unbeknownst to them, hundreds of owls were flying overhead.

Suddenly the fireplace began to rumble.

"Santa," Dewey cried out. "Santa came early."

"It's not Santa, stupid," Reese said, then looked at Malcolm.

"Of course not. It's only July."

Reese smiled and smacked Dewey. "You see, you little jerk."

"Reese," Lois yelled as she stormed into the living room. "I told you not to hit your brother." She turned to the fireplace. "Hal, some birds are caught in the flue again."

"They'll find their way out," Hal replied. "They always do."

_Yeah. That smell of burnt feathers never means anything._

At that point the first letter flew out of the fireplace. Then another flew out and another. Soon, the room was filled with hundreds of letters. Everyone stared in amazement. Hal recovered first.

"Okay, boys. Help me gather all these letters together. I'll get the string."

With unusual cooperation the three boys helped their father gather every envelope. Dewey had to be reprimanded several times for eating the wax seals but that was all.

"Dad," Dewey asked at one point when he opened a letter. "What's Hogwarts?"

"It's just some mail order company, Son. They're trying to pawn off their credit card on us. If we respond to even one of these letters, do you know what will happen? They'll send catalogs. Then we'll get phone calls about special sales. And then they'll start sending the monthly bills. And after that, they'll call again, but this time they won't be as friendly. And then we'll have to sell your teddy bear just to keep them from taking the house."

Dewey nodded as Hal made his point and handed the letter to his father. Hal noticed the wax seal was missing, and put his hand out. "Spit it out, son."

"I already swallowed it."

"Well, don't do it anymore. You'll ruin your supper."

"Okay."

That night, Hal and Lois were stretched out on the couch. Hal whispered into her ear. "The fire is so romantic."

"We'll have time later," Lois said. "Why don't we just relax and enjoy this?"

"You're right, dear. Malcolm, throw another bundle on the fire."

"Sure, Dad."

_This fire is great. The part I like best is the smell of the wax as it melts. And we received enough letters today to keep it going all night. Well, at least until midnight. And that's what I'm really excited about. At midnight, I become eleven. Then I can go to the arcade by myself without parental supervision. At least without lying about my age._

Hal noticed the clock. "Look at the time, son. It's almost midnight."

"Ten seconds to go," Malcolm said excitedly. "Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One. I'M ELEVEN!"

"Happy Birthday, Malcolm." Lois said.

"Yeah," Hal agreed, giving his wife a special look. "Now go to bed."

"WHAT?"

Lois returned Hal's special look. "You heard your father, Malcolm. You can finish being eleven in the morning."

_It figures. I never get to do anything._

BOOM. Someone banged on the door.

"I'll get it," Malcolm said.

"Who would be knocking this time of night?" Lois asked.

"I don't know," Hal answered. "I thought we payed all the bills."

BOOM.

"I'M COMING," Malcolm yelled. He walked up and opened the front door to see a giant of a man with a dark bushy beard staring at him.

"HARRY," Rubeus Hagrid said cheerfully.

"Dad, it's a salesman."

Hal got to his feet angrily and stormed toward the door. "Look, we're not interested in buying anything." He slammed the door in Hagrid's face. The door bounced back after hitting Hagrid's boot.

"What the blazes are ye talkin' about? I'm not here to sell ye anything."

"Then why are you here?" Hal asked in surprise.

"Well, I came to make sure Harry received his letter. We never got a reply to any of the others we sent."

Hal started laughing. "Well the joke's on you. There's no one here named Harry. You've got the wrong address." Suddenly, Hal paused. "Do you ride a custom Harley?"

"No," Hagrid said, "I told ye I only borrowed it that night."

"I remember you now, Your name's Hagrid."

"Tha's right," Hagrid said in relief. "Ye had me worried that I actually was in the wrong place. So where's Harry?"

"Dad," Malcolm asked. "I thought you said we didn't know anybody named Harry."

"Malcolm, go to bed."

_Huh?_

"But who's this Harry guy?"

"Malcolm," Lois said coming up from behind him. "Go to bed now. This doesn't concern you."

Hal waved him away. "We'll talk about it in the morning, son. Go to bed."

Disgruntled, Malcolm walked into the bedroom where his brothers were already in bed complaining about how Malcolm got to stay up late.

Hal made sure that Malcolm was gone. "Look, Hagrid. We need to talk."

"But I'm supposed to see Harry. Today's his eleventh birthday."

"Shhh, he might hear you."

Hal and Lois forced Hagrid to step out onto the lawn. Once they were far enough away from the house, Hagrid asked his question again.

"What happened to Harry?"

"We sent him to bed," Lois explained. "We didn't want him to hear us talking."

"Actually," Hal admitted, "We weren't planning on talking at all but that isn't important right now."

"Do you mean that boy was Harry? Wha' happened to his hair? And why did you call him Malcolm?"

"To answer your first question, yes," Hal told Hagrid. "And to answer your second question, we have no idea. Honey, do you want to try for number three."

Lois showed Hagrid the letter she was holding. "I made it a point to get this. It explains number three."

Hagrid took the letter and opened it. "The Human . . . Services . . . is that Department."

Hal rubbed his forehead. "We're going to be here all night."

Lois grabbed the letter from Hagrid. "Look, you're going to have to take my word for it. When you left that baby with us, we adopted him. We gave him a new name. Malcolm. We were throwing those letters away because we didn't remember Malcolm's old name."

"It was on the letters," Hagrid explained. "Harry . . ."

"Hagrid," Hal interrupted. "That's not the problem. The problem is we never told Malcolm he was adopted. If it's not too much trouble could you come back tomorrow. Wait, make that Saturday. That should give him some time to adjust to the news."

Hagrid nodded. "I'll explain it to Dumbledore. We have to have his proper name on the letter anyway." Hagrid paused. "I'm curious. Why'd ye change his name?"

"Oh, um, ah, just a whim," Hal said, giving a false laugh. "You know how newlyweds are."

"Newlyweds? But ye had a six-year-old boy."

"Wait a minute, Hal. Hagrid, why do you need to see Malcolm?"

"To give him his letter. It was his parent's wish. He has to get his letter."

"We'll see you Saturday," Lois said as she grabbed Hal back in the house. Just before she closed the door she popped her head back out, "And could you come earlier? Like before his bedtime?"

"7:00 P.M.?" Hagrid asked. Lois nodded and closed the door.

Hal put his arms around Lois's neck and kissed her. "Now where were we."

"On the couch," Lois answered, and they both smiled.


	3. The Man With The Custom Harley

A/N: I wanted to give my usual acknowledgment and thanks to the people who have read and reviewed. As usual, I can also think of nothing else to say.

Chapter Three: The Guy With The Custom Harley

No one said anything to Malcolm the next day. Every time he asked he was told, "Later." It was after they ate dinner that Lois told everyone to wait. "We need to talk about Malcolm."

"What did he do?" Reese asked cheerfully.

Lois scowled. "He didn't do anything. Why would you think that?"

"No reason," Reese said carefully. "Is it because he gave Francis the number of your credit card so he could keep charging phone calls?"

"Reese?" Malcolm shouted.

"Malcolm?" Lois shouted.

"Honey," Hal said soothingly.

"Don't honey me, Hal. Ths is serious."

Hal looked nervous. "Shouldn't we take care of the other matter first?"

"I'd better cancel that credit card right away. You explain it to him." As Lois got up and began pressing the number, Hal turned to look at Malcolm. "Son . . ." he paused. "Have I wished you Happy Birthday yet?"

"Yeah. Last night at midnight."

"Just checking. Do you get your present yet?"

Malcolm stared at his father. "Noooo, you said I had to wait until we had the cake."

"Oh, Right," Hal said, nodding his head. "Did you have your cake yet?"

"Dewey dropped it. Remember?"

"I didn't drop it," Dewey complained. "An evil man ran up and knocked it out of my hands."

"There wasn't any man, Dewey," Reese pointed out.

"He was invisible."

"Shut up, Dewey," Malcolm said. "There wasn't an invisible man. You're just a clumsy little brat."

"Boys," Hal said. "That isn't important. What is important is that I need to run to the store and buy a new cake. Tell your mother where I went."

Hal quickly got up and left the table.

"Hal," Lois yelled. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get another cake for Malcolm's birthday party."

"Did you tell Malcolm?"

"Of course I did."

"You told Malcolm that he was adopted?"

"I'M WHAT?"

_Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!_

"Mom," Reese called out. "Am I adopted, too?"

"No, you're ours."

_Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! This birthday just keeps getting better._

"Hal, you said you told Malcolm."

"I'm sorry, Honey. In all the excitement I forgot."

Lois glared at Hal. "Just get the cake."

Malcolm looked at his mother expectantly. "Is it true, Mom? I'm really adopted?"

"You don't have to look so happy about it."

"I'll fix that," Reese offered.

"Ow."

"Reese, I told you not to hit your brothers. And yes, Malcolm, you really are adopted."

Malcolm became excited. "Then I'm not really related to Reese?"

"You're related all right. You were brought to us after your Dad's half-sister died. You were born as his cousin."

Malcolm looked confused. "But that horse-face sent us a card for Christmas."

Lois sighed. "Not that one. His other sister."

"Yeah, dummy," Reese said. "The one that died." He paused. "There was another one?"

Malcolm paused. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"We were waiting for you to mature a little more, Honey. We wanted to be sure you could handle it. Now, if it were Reese or Francis, we would never get the chance . . ."

"HEY, I'm mature," Reese complained.

"I know you are," Lois said offhandedly.

"I am mature. I AM. I AM. I AM."

"All right, you're mature for God's sake. Now shut up."

"Am I mature?" Dewey asked as he ate his paper napkin.

"In a few years, dear, and don't drop any of that on the floor."

"OK, Mom."

"Mom," Malcolm asked. "If you were going to wait, then why are you telling me now?"

Lois paused. "Reese, Dewey, you can leave the table."

"That's OK, Mom. We don't mind staying."

"IN YOUR ROOM, NOW." Lois paused as the two boys ran into the bedroom. "AND CLOSE THE DOOR." After the door slammed, she turned back to Malcolm. "Malcolm, You do know we love you."

"I know, Mom."

_I can think of a half dozen better answers, but if I use any one of them I'll be grounded._

"And you're grounded for the next week for talking to Francis."

_Dang. I had a free shot and I missed it._

"No problem, Mom." Malcolm kept watching her for signs of what she was going to say.

"Honey, It's just that when your real parents died, it wasn't, um, . . ."

Malcolm swallowed hard. "Mom, how did they die?"

Lois gripped the table hard as she spoke the words. "They were blown up by an evil wizard."

"WHAT?"

_WHAT?_

"It's true. Then he tried to kill you but something happened. He killed himself or something, and all you got was that scar. I'm sorry, Malcolm."

Malcolm unconsciously rubbed the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Malcolm was horrified. "Mom, that's sick. That isn't even believable." He began to cry. "Why did you have to lie to me like that?"

"Malcolm."

"I wish it were true. I wish I really was adopted." Malcolm said as he ran out of the room. "I wish I had a better family."

"Honey," Hal said as Malcolm ran past him.

Lois looked up at him. "Your timing is perfect."

"That's a relief," Hal said, not noticing the sarcasm. "But I had to tell you, Mister Hagrid is here."

"He's not supposed to be here until Saturday?"

"I know, dear, but he said things were kind of busy Saturday. It would be easier to take care of this during the week. You know, Malcolm has to buy his school supplies and if we wait until the weekend all the stores will be crowded."

Malcolm ran into the living room. He was upset but not stupid. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Reese, and that meant not running into his bedroom. Then he saw the salesman sitting on the couch. The salesman broke out in a big smile, then frowned.

"Malcolm? Wha's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" Malcolm sobbed. "We're not going to buy anything."

Hagrid stood up as Hal and Lois entered the room. "Why'd ye tell the boy that? I told ye yesterday I wasn't selling anything."

"Actually that was early this morning," Hal pointed out. "We, uh, just never got the chance to correct him." Then Hal became forceful. "And you were supposed to come back Saturday."

"Oh," Hagrid said. "Sorry I snapped like that, but I saw the boy cryin' and all."

"It's my fault," Lois said sadly, as she put her hands on Malcolm's shoulders to console him. "Stop it," she hissed when Malcolm tried to shrug her off. "I just told him about his real parents."

Hagrid managed to frown. "I'm sorry, Malcolm."

Malcolm stared. "Then it's true. I really am adopted."

Hagrid nodded. "And I got somethin' for ye." He pulled a box out from under his big hairy coat. "I might have sat on it at one point but it should still be good."

Malcolm took the box and opened it up. It was a cake with the words, "Happee Birthdae Harry," written on it, except "Harry" was crossed out and "Malcome" written underneath.

"Uh, thanks," Malcolm said. He looked up at the giant. "Did you know my parents?" He glanced at his mom and dad. "You know what I mean."

"Aye, I did," Hagrid said with a grin which slowly faded. "Everyone knew James and Lily . . ."

"How did they die?" Malcolm asked, hurriedly. "It was a car crash or something, Right? Mom gave me some Bull that they were killed by some wizard. OOOWWW."

Lois instantly pulled Malcolm's hair forcing his head back and his mouth to open. She then took the dish detergent that Hal had gotten for her and squeezed a good portion of it out of the bottle and into Malcolm's mouth. "GARGLE"

"Ghghghghgh," Malcolm replied.

Lois took the bowl that Hal handed her and held under Malcolm's chin as she let go of his hair. "Now, spit."

"Um, right," Hagrid said as he watched the scene. "Well, Malcolm. Yer Mom did tell you the truth. But they died protecting you."

"Ugh," Malcolm replied as he tried to get the taste out of his mouth. "That doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does," Hagrid said. "If ye know one important fact."

"What's that?"

"Yer a wizard, Malcolm," Hagrid said as he broke out into a big grin. "And a thumpin' good one, I'll wager."

"Wait," Malcolm said as he began to laugh nervously. "This is some kind of demented joke, and you're in on it. Do you really think I'm that stupid to fall for it? Nice try, but I won't buy it."

"Now hold on," Hagrid said. "Did ye ever have something happen to ye or did ye ever do something that ye couldn't explain?"

_He can't know about that. No one could find any proof. Not even the police. He's bluffing._

"No."

"What about yer hair? It used to be black."

Malcolm smirked. "I've been though that one before. It was a severe allergic reaction that permanently altered the body chemistry of my hair follicles. Does that answer your question?"

Hagrid looked puzzled. "I've no idea. But ye don't wear glasses."

"Because I have contact lenses." Malcolm took one out to show him.

"Malcolm," Lois said with a smile. "What about Reese?"

_Mom's right. There's no explaining him._

"What do you mean?"

"We get complaints twice a week that he hits some kid for calling you names."

"Yeah, he told me."

"Well, son," Hal said carefully. "Think about it. You know what Reese is like. Why would he bother making up a reason?"

_WOW. Mom and Dad are right. It must be magic._

"Do you mean it?" Malcolm said to Hagrid. "Am I really a wizard?"

"Ye have to be trained and all, but yes, Malcolm, yer a wizard." Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Malcolm, who instantly threw it on the pile with the bundles of other letters. "Malcolm, ye were supposed to open that one."

"Sorry," Malcolm retrieved the letter and noticed that Harry's name was crossed out and his own written above it. "This letter's been opened already?"

"I had to change yer name on the inside, too. I didn't have time to get a new letter."

Malcolm read the letter. "Mom, Dad, it says I'm accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Can I go?"

"Well, Son . . ." Hal said. "The truth is we really can't afford it."

_I knew it. It was all a big joke and I fell for it._

"But it's been taken care of," Hagrid said suddenly. "And ye have to agree. It was in the letter when ye accepted little Harry, uh, Malcolm."

"What letter?" Lois asked.

"The one Dumbledore gave yer husband."

"Hal? Where is that letter?"

"Oh, that letter. I have no idea. I, um . . ."

"What happened to it?"

"You know how wonderful those letters burn? I used to start the fire that night."

Lois frowned and Hal smiled weakly. She then turned to Hagrid. "You said it was taken care of? Does that mean it's already paid for?" Hagrid nodded. "And Malcolm has to go?" Hagrid nodded again. "Well, Malcolm, it looks like you're going to Hogwarts."

"Great," Malcolm shouted. "Where is Hogwarts?"

"It's in the borderlands," Hagrid answered.

"In England?" came the surprised response.

"No, in Scotland."

Malcolm frowned. "Where do I catch the bus?"

Hagrid laughed. "Ye don't catch a bus. Ye take the train." Then he understood what Malcolm meant. "And ye stay there. It's a boarding school. They'll send ye home fer holidays, though, so don't worry."

"That means I have to leave home?"

_I mean it. This is the best birthday ever. All I need now is to find out that my real parents left me a ton of money._

"Mister Hagrid, how is all this being taken care of? Who's paying for it? Did my parents leave me a ton of money or something?"

Hagrid thought briefly. "It think it's more like a ton and a half."

_YES!_

"But that's for when he grows up," Lois said, smiling as Malcolm's smile disappeared.

"If yer talkin' about how much he can spend on himself, that would be for you to decide," Hagrid told her. "Until he reaches his legal age . . ."

_Great. Now I have to wait ten years._

". . . of seventeen."

_Six years? I can do six years_.

"When do I leave?" Malcolm asked.

"You take the cake, young man," Lois said, "and share it with your brothers. Your father and I will discuss this."

"Do you really need me?" Hal asked.

Lois scowled. "Hagrid and I will discuss this."

"Great," Hal said as he grabbed the cake and ushered Malcolm into the kitchen.


	4. Magical Mystery Tour

A/N: I want to thank Quantic7 for the review. For all of my efforts at proofreading something always slips by. I have corrected they error so that Malcolm did HAVE his cake. And he ate it, too.

I also need to explain something to Hazardess that I have explained in previous stories. I can post a chapter a day because the story is already written, except for last minute changes. The only times I have problems doing this are when I am rushed because of work, busy because of holidays and the invariable computer problems. Hopefully, I will be able to entertain you every morning for the next three weeks.

And a closing note to Hedlund, Malcolm will go to Diagon Alley in the chapter five. And chapter thirteen.

Chapter Four: Magical Mystery Tour

"Malcolm, get in here," Lois called out.

"I didn't do it," Malcolm said.

"I didn't accuse you of anything. Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing."

_Really. I didn't do anything. At least anything she doesn't already know about._

"Then don't be so defensive."

"Ok," Malcolm replied. "What did you want?"

Lois smiled and Malcolm became nervous.

_Don't worry about it. It's only a reflex action._

"Your passport arrived today."

"Passport?"

"You're going to England in two weeks. You need a passport."

Malcolm took the small booklet from his mother as a sinking feeling developed in his stomach. Everything was becoming real. He really was going away to school. He really would be leaving home. "Mom, this is a British Passport."

"That's right. You were born there."

Malcolm looked horrified. "You mean I'm really English?"

"It's not that bad, Malcolm," Hal chimed in. "You make it sound like it's a completely different country."

"Dad, it is a completely different country."

"You know what I mean. We speak the same language and all that. Isn't that right, Lois?"

"And it gets better," Lois told Hal. "Now that Malcolm has his passport, he can do his shopping for all his school clothes and stuff."

"Mom, no. I don't want to go shopping for clothes."

"Of course you do," Lois said cheerfully. "And you get to buy your supplies and your school books."

_That's Right. MAGICAL school books._

"When do I go?" Malcolm asked excitedly.

"That's the spirit, Son," Hal told him. "If you can't get out of it, at least pretend you're enjoying it."

"HAL," Lois yelled angrily. "Malcolm, we've already made the arrangements. Mister Hagrid's boss sent us the instructions on how you can use the floo network."

"The what?"

Lois showed him the letter. "It's how wizards travel. You can use it to go to the Wizard Mall they have."

Malcolm's eyes got big. "Wizards have a Mall?"

"What did you expect? It's called Diagon Alley."

"Mom, this letter says I'm supposed to meet Mister Hagrid at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow. How did this Dumbledore guy know I'd have my passport by then?"

Lois smirked. "Who do you think sent it to you? He got your name wrong of course and we had to send it back, but they fixed it."

_That's a relief. I'd hate being called Harry all the time. It might be a nice name but you never met my uncle Harry. This guy, Harry DiCaprio met him when they were kids, and made his parents change his name to Leonardo. Honestly, it's a true story._

"Thanks, Mom."

* * *

It was Ten o'clock in the morning, and Malcolm had carefully read the instructions. They lit a bundle of letters in the fireplace and Malcolm took a pinch of the powder, threw it on the flames, and said, distinctly, "Diagon Alley." 

The flames shot up bright blue and Malcolm stepped into the fireplace remembering to keep his hands by his side as per the instructions. As he was whisked away, he said, "AAAHHHHHH!" Then he stumbled out of the fireplace into a tavern.

"Was that your first time?" asked an old man in a purple hat and matching robes. He had a distinctly British accent

"Uhn, Uhn," Malcolm answered in acknowledgment as he tried to stop shaking.

"And where are your folks?" asked another man, this one wearing an apron.

"Tom, let the boy catch his breath."

"I'm . . . supposed . . . to meet . . . Mister Hagrid," Malcolm said gasping

"MISTER Hagrid?" Tom laughed. "I know him. Never heard him called Mister before. Are you the one he was waiting for? You were supposed to be here at Ten this morning."

Malcolm looked at his watch. "It's still five to ten."

"You're daft, boy. It's almost five."

"He's not daft, Tom," the purple man said. "He's American. You heard his accent."

"American?" Tom laughed again. "You forgot to change your watch, lad. It may still be ten where you come from but here it's near to dinner time."

Malcolm frowned. Then he noticed someone come in from the street. He excused himself and walked over to the door, opened it and looked out as a double-decker bus passed by. He closed the door.

_Ok, adjust for the time difference._

"What am I doing in England?"

"That was my Question," Tom the barkeep told Malcolm.

"I was supposed to go to the Mall. School Shopping."

"Do you mean Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah."

Malcolm noticed that everyone was watching him, and grinning. Including the people in the pictures.

_Okay, at least I'm in the right place._

"This way," someone called from the back. "Ginny, don't lag, come along, all of you."

A red-haired lady came through a doorway in the back leading a brood of redheaded children of various ages. "Just passing through, Tom. Have to catch the Bus home."

"Have a safe trip, Mrs. Weasley," Tom called back.

Mrs. Weasley noticed Malcolm and paused. "He's a cute boy. Is he yours, Tom?"

"Not likely. Missus would have told me. He came out of the fireplace a few minutes ago. He's a bit lost."

"I'm not lost," Malcolm said. "I just don't know where I am. Look, if Mister Hagrid isn't here, just tell me how to get home."

"Just tell the fireplace the name of your house," Tom told him.

"Name?"

"Oops," someone said from behind him. Malcolm turned around to see two boys, obviously twins, grinning at him. It was a friendly gesture because everyone else was laughing.

"Are you muggle born by any chance?" Tom asked.

"Am I what?"

Mrs. Weasley spoke up. "That would be a yes." She held out her hand. "My name's Molly. What's yours?"

"Malcolm. Look, I'm sorry about all of this but I was supposed to meet Mister Hagrid . . ."

"Just call him Hagrid, dear."

"Ok, Mrs. Weasley, but he didn't tell me I was going to a different Time Zone. I got here early and I'm still seven hours late."

Tom smiled as Malcolm repeated himself. "He's from the States. He's supposed to buy his school things."

"Yeah," Malcolm agreed. "That's why I was supposed to meet Hagrid. He knows all the cheap places. And he's got my money."

Molly smiled and Malcolm immediately became nervous.

_I told you, it's a reflex. But I don't know why it's kicking in now._

"I've got the perfect solution," Molly Weasley said cheerfully.

_I think I'm about to find out._

"Tom, if anyone checks, tell them I've taken Malcolm with me. And I'll have Arthur inform the Ministry. We can send him home from the Burrow when we find out where he lives."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. That saves me a spot of trouble." Tom told Malcolm goodbye and went back to work.

"And Malcolm," Mrs. Weasley said as she guided him out into the street, "I know what it's like, trying to make ends meet. If your mum doesn't mind, I have an extra set of everything from Fred's first year, and extra robes that even Ron has grown out of . . ."

Mrs. Weasley paused to raise her hand, and a large purple bus suddenly appeared, almost hitting a half dozen cars on the street. Malcolm couldn't help notice that the drivers of those cars, or any of the other cars, or even the people walking by, had not noticed the bus. Mrs. Weasley ushered everyone onboard and payed the fares, putting a handful of coins back into her purse.

Malcolm was steered to a bed and sat down on it, as Mrs. Weasley finished explaining all of the things she could do for him. "Of course, I need to talk to your mother first."

"You're doomed," the boy next to him said. As Malcolm looked up, a redhead his age but a good head taller held out his hand. "I'm Ron. I'm going to be a first year, too."

Malcolm shook his hand and gave his name, then went flying as the bus took off with a terrific lurch. He held on to his bed for dear life and looked over at Ron, who asked him, "You've never been on the Knight Bus before?"

"No would be an accurate answer. Is it always like this?"

"Don't you have buses where you come from?"

"Yeah, but they make sure the driver knows how to drive." Malcolm added, "AAHHH," as the bus made a sharp left turn.

_If this is what magic is like, that word is going to become a major part of my vocabulary._

Ron pointed to the two twins laughing at him. "That's Fred and George. They're in their third year."

"I'm Ginny," a redheaded girl said as she jumped onto the bed on the other side of Malcolm. "Are you really going to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, I got a letter and everything."

"But you're an American?"

"The Burrow," The driver called out as the bus lurched to a stop.

"Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, off the bus now," Mrs. Weasley yelled, then turned to Malcolm. "This is our stop, dear. We'll have you sorted out in no time."

Malcolm gratefully got off the bus and got his first look at the Burrow.

_This could be worth it. Magic is the only reason that house is still standing._

"Why are you going to Hogwarts if you're an American?" Ginny asked again.

"I'm not," Malcolm said. "I thought I was but it turns out I was born over here. Some place called Godric Hollow."

Malcolm couldn't help notice Molly Weasley's smile as it froze in place.

"Then why did you move to America?" Ginny wanted to know.

"Ginny," Ron said, "Don't bother Malcolm for his life story."

"Yeah," Fred and George said. "Wait until we get him inside."

"Arthur," Molly called as she opened the door.

"Right here, Dear," Arthur said. "I've only just arrived."

"Everyone has their books, but after buying Percy his owl, we didn't have enough left for Ron's wand."

"Not a problem," Arthur Weasley said. "He can use one of my old ones. They're still good enough for schoolwork."

Ron groaned quietly to Malcolm. "Another Hand-me-down. I don't have one thing new to take to school with me."

"New?" Malcolm said in return. "The last time I got something new was seven years ago. It was a brother. If I don't get hand-me-downs, it's the thrift store or the bargain basement."

"Now, boys," Molly Weasley said cheerfully. "You make everything sound so dreadful."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley. We were only making fun. We know it isn't as bad as that." Malcolm turned to Ron and whispered, "It's worse," and both boys snickered.

"Who is this?" Arthur asked as he spied the stranger in his house.

"Arthur, this is Malcolm. He's going to be a first year with Ron. We met him in the Leaky Cauldron."

"That's nice. And why does he talk funny?"

"He's American, dear."

"Then why is he going to Hogwarts?"

"I asked him, Dad," Ginny offered. "He only lives there. He was born in Godric Hollow."

"Where you really?" Arthur said in surprise.

"Yeah."

"And when did your parents move to the United States?"

_Get ready. When I tell them the truth, they're going to be all over me with sympathy. "Oh, you poor boy." "Oh, how horrible." Just watch. It's going to be disgusting._

"They died," Malcolm admitted. "I was sent to live with relatives in America."

_OK, I admit I didn't expect everyone to just stare at me._

"But," Arthur Weasley said slowly, "your name is Malcolm."

"Yeah. That's what my parents named me when they adopted me."

_They're still staring. This is starting to get creepy_.

Arthur reached over and pushed up the hair that hung down on one side of Malcolm's forehead. "By Merlin's beard, Molly, there it is."

_That does it. I'm officially freaking out._

"It's a scar," Malcolm yelled. "What is it with you people? Are all of you born crazy?"

"Harry?" Arthur said, almost whispering.

"NO," Malcolm answered. "I told you. It's Malcolm. My folks changed it when they adopted me."

"It is you," Arthur said. "It is him, Molly."

"Is it really him?" Ginny asked, staring in surprise at Malcolm.

"Is it really who?" Malcolm asked.

"He doesn't know," Molly explained. "He said he was living with muggles."

"No, I didn't." Malcolm countered. "That guy asked me if my parents were muggles and I asked him what muggles were. You were the one who said they were."

Arthur smiled. "We can settle this easily enough. Malcolm, are they?"

"Are they what?"

"Muggles, of course."

"WHAT . . . ARE . . . MUGGLES?"

"People who can not use magic. I should have asked if your, um, adoptive father is a wizard?"

"Definitely not."

"And is your mother a . . ." Arthur paused as he noticed the ready smile in Malcolm's eye, ". . . a woman capable of performing magic."

"No," Malcolm said, disappointed that his joke was ruined.

"And that is why," Arthur said expansively, "you do not know who you are."

"And?" Malcolm asked.

"And?" Malcolm asked again.

"Dad," Percy said, "you should tell him."

"Sorry, got caught up in the moment. Malcolm, everyone knows all about you. We call you The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Oh," Malcolm responded. "I'm curious. How much do you know about me? Like, do you know about what I did last week, or two months ago at Lucky Aid?"

"Not at all, Malcolm. After your parents died, and You-Know-Who disappeared, we all knew you had been sent into hiding to grow up in safety."

Malcolm started breathing again. "And who is You-Know-Who?"

Arthur frowned. "That is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"And why don't we name him?" Malcolm asked in a manner that said I'm smarter than you are.

Arthur smirked at him. "Because names have power in the world of magic. You don't want to attract the attention of someone evil, do you?" He said the last bit in a manner that said no you're not, you're still a baby. "That could ruin your entire day."

"Fine. But why all the mystery. Can you tell me what happened to this guy?"

"That's easy." Fred shouted. "We don't know. He disappeared, too."

"He's probably dead," George added. "I wouldn't worry."

"Wait a minute," Malcolm said. "Nobody ever told me anything. I didn't even know about magic until two weeks ago. What did my parents do to this guy, anyway?"

Arthur led Malcolm to a couch and sat him down. Molly sat down on the other side of him. "Malcolm, there is more to tell than this but this is all I know. Your parents died before they could do anything. And they were more powerful than most witches and wizards. But this man we do not name was even stronger, and he seemed unstoppable. And then he tried to kill you, but something happened. He was caught in the power of his own spell and reduced to a pale spectre of what he had formerly been. Your parents' house was completely destroyed. And your only injury was that scar. It's the type of scar you get from surviving a deadly curse, the killing curse."

_Now that's cool. I have a curse scar._

"Mr. Weasley, I hate to change the subject, but I don't know how to get home."

"How did you get here?"

"I took the bus."

"Odd. The Knight Bus doesn't go to America."

"No, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "He took the Knight Bus to the Burrow from the Leaky Cauldron. He came there by floo powder but he doesn't know the name of his house."

"I never thought to ask," Malcolm said

Arthur gave Malcolm a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'll just pop on over to the Ministry and find out. I'll be back as quick as I can." He stood up and disappeared with a loud popping noise.

_WOW. He meant that literally._

"Does it hurt to travel like that?" Malcolm asked.

"Don't be silly, dear. But don't try it either. Wait until you're older, and someone shows you how to do it properly."

"Okay."

Ron sat down as Mrs. Weasley went to prepare dinner. "Malcolm, this is amazing. We've heard stories about you all our lives."

"Tell him the best part," Fred urged his brother.

"Or shall we?" George asked

"You shouldn't harass Malcolm like that," Percy said. "He's a guest here."

"Percy's right," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. "Leave Malcolm alone."

"Hold it," Malcolm said as everyone else frowned. "Could you stop harassing me after you tell me the best part?"

"Malcolm, really." Percy said.

"Really, yourself. So far all I've gotten is my parents died horribly, I have a curse scar, I was sent to another country to grow up, I wasn't told anything about this, and on top of that, I have a ton and a half of money, and I can't touch a penny of it until I'm seventeen."

"A Knut," Percy said.

Malcolm stopped in the middle of his rant. "What is a Knut?"

"It's what you can't spend. A penny is muggle money, do you see?"

_From the looks he's getting, his brothers think the same thing about Percy that I do right now._

"That isn't the point," Malcolm insisted. "The point is that no one has been able to tell me anything good. No one has ever said anything to me about me or my parents that wasn't followed by 'Sorry, Malcolm,' or 'That's too bad, Malcolm.' So if anybody has anything to say that they consider good, I want to hear it, even if they are completely wrong. Do you understand?"

Percy gave Malcolm an offended look, and walked away muttering, "I was only trying to help."

"Well?" Malcolm said as he looked at both the twins. "What's the best part.?"

"It's very simple, Malcolm. No one knows who you are." Fred fingered his hair. "It's supposed to be black."


	5. Diagon Alley

Chapter Five: To Diagon Alley

Malcolm stared in disbelief. "Are you telling me that the best thing about my life is that my hair is brown?"

"Malcolm," Fred grinned widely. "Everyone knows about the Boy-Who-Lived but no one, except us, knows that's who you are. You can live a normal life without everyone bothering you."

"What about Hagrid?" Malcolm asked. "He knows about me. He's the one who told me my mom and dad were telling the truth. And he gave me my letter."

Fred and George shrugged. "Sorry, Malcolm. We guess you are doomed."

"I'm back," Arthur Weasley said after he reappeared. "It was rather easy."

_I know this sounds stupid but I have to ask this question._

"Mister Weasley. Where do I live?"

"You live at Home, Malcolm. It seems that the floo network wasn't set up properly. Your parents gave their home the name Home by mistake. On an interesting note, a five-year-old boy became angry at his friend and tried to use the network to return home and . . ."

". . . and he ended up at my house?"

"Exactly. Normally he would have received some minor burns and learned his lesson, but that's beside the point."

"So all I have to do is to say Home and I can go home?"

"Not exactly," Mister Weasley said. "Your fireplace was connected for one trip and one return only."

"That's not a problem," Mrs. Weasley said. "Malcolm can stay here until they fix things."

"Um," Malcolm asked. "How long is that going to take?"

"This is Friday, and we are heading into the weekend," Mr. Weasley pointed out. "It will probably be taken care of the first thing Monday morning."

"You mean I'm stuck here all weekend?" Malcolm asked angrily.

_Hey, I'm stuck in a house full of wizards for the entire weekend. A house full of MAGIC._

"This is so cool," Malcolm said appreciatively.

* * *

"Won't," the five-year-old boy said.

"Fine," Lois responded, "Then you can starve if you want to. This is what we're eating, so tough it or tough luck."

The boy looked at the plate in front of him and frowned. Nothing was working with this woman. He tried crying, throwing a tantrum and throwing things. That lasted only a second because the older boy came up and offered him a knuckle sandwich. As a last resort the boy tried stubbornness. Giving up in defeat, he began to eat his supper.

"And when you're done, you can take a bath," Lois said. "You're so dirty I'd swear you were one of my own kids."

The boy looked up in shock. This was too much. He was supposed to be spoiled. He was supposed to be able to do whatever he wanted. He looked Lois in the eye, determined to make his position known. "Yes, Ma'am," he said weakly. The smile she gave him was too much to fight against.

"Dewey," Hal suggested, "Why don't you let, uh, him use some of your special soap. I'm sure he'd like a bubble bath."

"No," Dewey said. "It's bad enough Reese uses it without asking."

"I don't," Reese insisted in a horrified voice. "I would never stoop to anything so childish." He looked at Dewey. "And you weren't supposed to tell."

Hal shrugged as he cut a piece of meatloaf. "Your secret's safe with me." He paused to chew then asked, "Honey, what is his name, anyway."

"Don't know," Lois said between bites. "I never asked." She turned to the boy. "And only use one capful. I'm tired of soap bubbles all over the floor."

The boy nodded.

* * *

"Just a few more minutes," Mrs. Weasley said as Malcolm stood on the stool with his arms spread out. She continued to make marks where the hems and cuffs should be while the young boy prayed for salvation.

_Let me be honest. This is a lot better than if I was home. At least there's no jelly in the pockets. And I did find this toffee. I'll save it for later._

"There you are," Molly Weasley said two hours later. "Now you have all your school robes. Isn't that wonderful, Malcolm?"

"That's great, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks a lot."

_Yeah, I love having my morning wasted._

"Ron," Mrs., Weasley called out cheerfully. "I'm ready for you."

"Aw, Mom," Ron complained. "We were about to play some Quidditch." Ron completed his statement by putting his broom down climbing on the stool that Malcolm had vacated.

"Malcolm," Fred asked, as he came down the stairs, "would you like to take Ron's place?"

Malcolm looked at Ron, who gave him a trapped look, and turned back to face the twins.

"Sure. What are you doing?"

"Grab Ron's broom and we'll show you."

_Great. Now I'm stuck helping them do their house chores._

"Sorry, boys," Arthur Weasley said as he came out of the kitchen. "I have to take Malcolm to Diagon Alley. He still has to get his wand."

_Thank you, God. No work for me._

"Thanks, Mister Weasley," Malcolm said after Percy and the twins left the house.

Arthur gave him a curious look. "I take it you don't like Quidditch."

"I don't like any kind of work," Malcolm answered honestly.

Arthur chuckled. "Malcolm, Quidditch isn't work. It's a Wizard Sport."

Malcolm gave him a confused look. "Then what are the brooms for?"

"How else are you going to fly?" Arthur laughed.

Malcolm looked longingly out the back door, then turned back to Arthur who was holding out a ladle. "What's this?" he asked curiously as he went to take it.

"Just hold on for a second, Malcolm," Arthur explained as he looked at his watch. "Three, Two, One."

And Malcolm said, "AAAHHHH."

"What the heck was that?" Malcolm asked when the world stopped spinning. "I felt like someone was trying to punch my belly button by going through my back."

"It was only a portkey," Arthur explained. "You don't have to be so dramatic about it. Really, Malcolm, you have no sense of proportion." He opened the door to Ollivander's Wand Shop and ushered Malcolm inside. Malcolm looked around the small room he was in, with a lone chair in the middle and shelves filled with small boxes lining the walls. A small bell rang somewhere in the back of the store and an old man appeared, his silver eyes lighting up when he saw his customers.

"It was only a matter of time until you showed your face, Malcolm."

"You know who I am?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Hagrid saw fit to inform me of your change of name, and change of features. Your face is still your father's, though your eyes are from your mother."

Malcolm was surprised. "You knew my parents?"

Ollivander smiled. "I first met them when they were your age. Your father favored a mahogany wand, which is good for transfiguration. Your mother had a gift for charms and she chose a wand of Willow, nice and swishy. Of course the wand chooses the wizard, young Malcolm. And you are here to find out which wand will choose you."

Malcolm watched as Ollivander snapped his fingers and a measuring tape began to measure various parts of his body. Arm Length. Distance between ears. Length of fingers. When the tape went to measure the width of his nostrils, Malcolm had enough and grabbed the tape, and tried to throw it away. By the time Ollivander returned, the tape had wrapped itself around Malcolm's hand and was measuring the distance between his knuckles just to spite him.

Ollivander snapped his fingers and the tape flew away out of Malcolm's reach. "It does tend to get over zealous," he apologized as he handed Malcolm a wand. "Here. Maple, Twelve Inches, Unicorn Hair." When Malcolm stared at it, he added, "Give it a wave."

Malcolm waved the wand and was surprised when green sparks flew out of the tip.

"No, that won't do," Ollivander said as he took the wand and gave Malcolm another. Malcolm waved it with similar results. The third wand did no better. By the twenty-seventh wand, Arthur had already excused himself. He needed to stop by the bank and would be back before Malcolm was finished. The remark did not give Malcolm confidence.

"I wonder," Ollivander said at one point, after wand forty three, and went into the back room. He came back with a dusty black box, and opened it, handing the wand to Malcolm. "Try this one. Holly and Phoenix Feather. A supple wand."

"It feels different," Malcolm said as he took the wand. He waved it and was surprised to see a stream of red and gold stars come from the tip of the wand. "That was great."

Ollivander was not smiling. "And with that wand you will do great things, Malcolm."

"How do you know that?"

Ollivander pointed to Malcolm's scar. "Because of that. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave only one other. Its brother resides in the wand that gave you that scar. That man, whose name we do not speak, did many great things. They were Terrible, but they were Great."

"Thank you for creeping me out," Malcolm said.

Ollivander smiled, which for some reason did not improve Malcolm's mood. "I thought it was something you should know. Should I put the wand back in its box, or will you carry it with you?"

"Box," Malcolm said quickly, and Ollivander put it away, giving the box back to Malcolm. "Um, Mr. Ollivander, How do I pay for this?"

"We wait for Arthur Weasley to return," Ollivander said, and began to put away the wands that had been pulled out.

After fifteen minutes a popping noise was heard, and Mr. Weasley returned. "Sorry about the delay," He said, "Went to Gringotts and found out Hagrid had left me the wrong key. Straightened it out soon enough. It was a set withdrawal anyway. Which is a pity. I do love riding those cars to the vaults." He handed over eight large gold coins to Ollivander, who handed a few smaller silver and bronze ones back.

As they left the shop, Malcolm asked about Gringotts.

"Oh, you mean a set withdrawal? That is when your parents make arrangements for a specific amount to be withdrawn. The idea is to prevent you from helping yourself, not that you're that type of person."

_Yeah, I never do things like that._

"What about the cars? Why are they so great?"

Arthur grinned. "I don't mean automobiles or anything like that. It's only two benches attached to a frame with four steel wheels which sit on the rails. I love the way they whiz around the corners at high speed, and drop down the steep declines as though there's no bottom. I suppose it's still the little boy in me." Arthur emphasized the speed and the twisting of the tracks so well that Malcolm actually started to turn green. He ended his explanation with a question. "Would you like some Ice Cream before we return?"

Between the description of Gringotts and the memory of the portkey, Malcolm had no problem saying no. Arthur Weasley smiled and said he understood, that the excitement was too much. He then held out the portkey and Malcolm hesitated. He finally grabbed hold and discovered that knowing what was going to happen did not make him feel any better.

* * *

"Are you ready?" George asked as he showed Malcolm the broom. They had spirited him and Ron away before Molly Weasley could think of something else she needed the two boys for.

Malcolm looked nervously at the broom. Every other method of transportation he had tried involved scaring him to death. Now two boys Reese's age were trying to convince him that flying on a broom was fun. Malcolm nodded and listened to the instructions that Fred gave him, then Percy repeated. ("For good measure," he explained.)

"I'm ready," Malcolm said, and mounted the broom. He kicked off the way he was shown and leaned forward.

_This is great. This is how I should travel. I wonder how fast I can go._

Malcolm tried to fly as fast as he could until he realized that he was too near the enclosing hedge. He did a quick reverse and headed back to where the Weasleys were watching him.

"That was great," Malcolm said, his face flushed. "How did I do?"

"Pretty good," Fred said noncommitally.

"For your first time," George added casually.

"Don't listen to them," Ron said, enthusiastically. "You were bloody brilliant. And that reverse! It was magnificent."

Percy put his arm on Malcolm's shoulder. "What Ron means is that you are obviously a natural when it comes to flying. Would you care to try your hand at a pickup game of Quidditch?"

Malcolm's eyes lit up, but he saw Ron's frown. "That means Ron can't play. Right?"

"Go ahead," Ron said, forcing a smile. "I want to see how good you really are. We'll switch off later."

_Cool. Now I won't feel guilty._

For an hour, they flew around the makeshift hoop. Malcolm did not disguise the fact that he was enjoying himself. Even Ron was enjoying the scene by continually reminding himself that Malcolm had never been on a broom before. It was hard to believe just by watching him. It also helped Ron's mood that Fred and George traded off with him so that he had a chance to play as well.

"Time for dinner," Percy called, and everyone landed, for the walk back to the house.

"You were great," Ron kept repeating. Percy was saying the same thing. Fred and George, however, held back to have a private discussion. Ron couldn't help pointing out, "They play on the Quidditch team. I bet they're trying to figure out how to get you on the team as well."

"It's a waste of time," Percy told Malcolm. "First years aren't allowed to try out. And besides, you may not be put in Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Malcolm asked.

"It's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. The others are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. When you get to school you'll be sorted into one of the houses, and that's where you'll spend the next seven years."

"Our family always goes to Gryffindor," Ron stated. "If I don't get in, they'll disown me."

Malcolm smirked at the seriousness of the remark, but by that time they were back at the Burrow. Malcolm washed up as well as he could then sat down to eat. Mr. Weasley insisted that they sit together. Ron warned that his father was fascinated by muggles and was going to prove it.

"Malcolm," Arthur Weasley asked as he began passing the food around, "you seemed reluctant to use the portkey. I never thought to ask if you wanted to see anything at Diagon Alley."

"I did, but I realized I couldn't buy anything, so there wasn't much point in asking." Malcolm smiled to make it seem like he was serious.

"That reminds me," Arthur said, and took some coins out of his pocket. "There was some money left over. I suppose you can find a use for it." Malcolm held out his hand and Arthur handed him the coins. "That's one sickle, the silver one, and four knuts."

_I have no idea how much that is, but I can bet it's not a lot._

"Um, thanks, Mr. Weasley."

"Don't mention it," Arthur said kindly. "Could you pass the potatoes? And tell me, does your family have any association with magic?"

"Only me," Malcolm said. "They knew who Hagrid was, but it was obvious it had been a long time since they saw him. I think he was the one who delivered me."

"Really? That doesn't sound right." Then Arthur smiled. "Oh, you mean to your house. I was thinking . . . Never mind."

"Dad," George interrupted. "Did you know Malcolm is a natural flyer?"

Arthur's eyes lit up. "How good is he?"

"Stop that," Molly said. "You can't plan out Malcolm's life for him."

"But Mom," Fred pointed out, "We stank last year. If we had someone like Malcolm, we could take the cup. He'd make a great Seeker."

_Quidditch? They're talking about me joining the Quidditch team? But First Years never make the team?_

"He won't make it on your say so," Molly said.

"You'd be best off talking to McGonagall," Arthur said. "Try and sneak Malcolm on a broom to show her how . . ."

"ARTHUR?" Molly said in a furious tone. "He hasn't even gone to the school. You don't know that he'll be put into Gryffindor." She turned to Malcolm. "Although it is the best house at Hogwarts. And I'm not saying that because it's my old house. Albus Dumbledore was in Gryffindor, too. Pass the peas, dear."

Malcolm passed the peas. "Who's Albus Dumbledore?"

"The headmaster," Arthur pointed out. "And the best we've had in a long time," he added expansively. "Not that we're trying to influence you, Malcolm."

"I know, Mister Weasley. It's just that if I don't get into Gryffindor, you'll never talk to me again."

"Yes we will," Fred replied with a grin.

With an identical grin, George added, "We just won't be polite about it."

_And I bet you think they're joking._

* * *

It was Monday. Malcolm went out with Ron as early as possible and practiced flying. It was heaven. Finally, there was something about the world of magic that he actually liked. They returned to the Burrow for lunch and Malcolm noticed Mrs. Weasley with her head in the fireplace.

"Tell me that doesn't hurt."

Ron laughed. "Mum's talking to someone. I'll bet it's your mum."

Malcolm hesitated. "That means I'll be going home."

Ron smirked. "You sound like it's the end of the world."

"Ron, I hate traveling by the floo network." He paused. "I didn't care for the portkey, either. Or the Knight Bus. Could I borrow a broom and fly home?"

"To America? It would take days."

Malcolm groaned.

"It's settled," Mrs. Weasley said as she stood up. "Malcolm, I talked to your mother and she agreed to give you a choice of staying here until school starts . . ."

"YES."

_That means I won't have to use that floo network again. I'll miss Mom and Dad but it's worth it. All right, I won't really miss Mom and Dad, but it's still worth it._

"That's great," Ron chimed in. He was clearly happy that his new friend would be staying.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I'm glad you like it here, Malcolm. Now, all you have to do is return to your house and get the rest of your belongings and bring them back with you."

"What?" Malcolm shuddered at the thought of using the floo network twice in a row.

"You need your clothes," Mrs. Weasley explained. "You can't run around naked at school."

Malcolm forced himself to the fireplace as Mrs. Weasley gave him the floo powder and told him what to say. Malcolm did as he was instructed and stepped into the flames. His next word was, "AAAAHHHHH."


	6. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

Chapter Six: Platform Nine 3/4

"UHN, UHN," Malcolm said as he stepped out of the fireplace into his living room. A five-year-old boy had turned around from the couch and was staring at him.

"It's only Malcolm," Dewey said and they both went back to watching television.

"Malcolm?" Lois asked. "Are you OK?"

"Y-Yeah," Malcolm answered. "That isn't the easiest way to travel."

"It's fast though," Lois pointed out. "What did it take? Two minutes? And all the way from England."

"Who's the kid?" Malcolm asked. "Mr. Weasley said someone came here by mistake."

"That's Elliot," Lois said. "He was supposed to go home today but his mom begged me to keep him, at least until school starts." She smiled. "We worked out a deal. And that extra money comes in handy."

"Hey, Elliot," Malcolm called out.

Elliot raised his hand and waved without turning away from the TV.

_He's fitting in without any problems._

* * *

"AAAAHHHHH," Malcolm said as he returned to the Burrow. He stepped out of the fireplace and dropped his suitcase on the floor. He then dropped on top of his suitcase, panting.

"Malcolm?" Ron asked. "Are you OK?"

"Y-Yeah. That isn't the easiest way to travel."

"It is fast though. How long does it take? Two minutes? And all the way from America."

_Yeah. It's Deja Vu all over again._

"Ron, there aren't any stray kids here. Are there?"

"Only you," Ron smirked. "Are you hungry?"

"NO."

* * *

The days of August flew quickly by and Malcolm flew with them as he was ushered out to the practice field almost every day. The twins had decided that he was their secret weapon, and they wanted to start training him. Because it was an excuse to fly, Malcolm never complained. Ron was always there as well. These were his last few chances to use a broom for almost a year.

"Catch, Malcolm," Fred called and tossed him a makeshift quaffle.

"Block him," George called to Ron, who moved to block his path.

Malcolm flew upward and Ron followed. He did a quick reverse, and Ron tried to copy him. Ron was too slow and Malcolm was past him, eyeing George carefully. He wove to the right and George did the same. He swung back to the left and threw a quick pass to Fred, who had used Malcolm's diversion to get behind his brother. Fred caught the quaffle and flew past the tree which was the goal.

"That's 3 to 1," Fred told George, "our lead."

"Let's have another go," George challenged.

"Right." Fred went to toss the quaffle into the air.

"MUM WANTS YOU," Ginny called from the ground. As the four boys flew down, she told them, "Mum wants to talk to you about what you're taking to school."

"She went through our trunks again," George complained. "You were right, Fred, we should have waited until the last minute."

Ron smirked. "I hope the two of you have fun. Malcolm and I will miss you."

"Mum wants to see you, too," Ginny said.

"But I . . ." Ron started to say then scowled at Fred and George. "You put some of your things in MY TRUNK?"

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "We thought it was safe. Best come along and get it over with."

"Is Mum mad?" Ron asked.

"Furious." Ginny's look showed she was telling the truth.

"Malcolm," George called. "You have to come, too."

_I bet they put stuff in my luggage, too._

"Mum doesn't need to talk to Malcolm," Ginny told her brothers.

"And Mum doesn't want him out here alone."

"I'll stay with him," Ginny offered. "I heard Mum when she found those fireworks. I don't need to hear her again when she yells at you."

"That's great," Malcolm said, at the thought of being able to fly some more. _And not having to listen to anyone yelling._ "She can help me train."

"That's a good idea," Fred agreed. "She can watch you train." He leaned into Malcolm as though he was going to whisper, but spoke loud enough for Ginny to hear. "Mum and Dad don't want her on a broom. She's too young."

Ginny frowned as Malcolm said he understood completely. As the brothers walked back to the house, taking their brooms, Malcolm tried to be polite. "Would you like to see me do anything?"

"The twins said you do an excellent reverse. Could I see that?"

Malcolm nodded. He flew toward the hedges that bordered the clearing and reversed his direction at the last moment. Hr flew back to where Ginny was and did the reverse again, right in front of her. After the second time he paused and saw an eager look in her eyes.

_Normally, I would never do this, but they did tell me not to._

Malcolm looked to make sure that Ron and the twins were out of sight, then asked, "Would you like to give it a try?"

"Yes," Ginny said, eagerly, and ran back toward the house a short way to a clump of bushes. She reached inside and pulled out a broom, mounted, and flew back to Malcolm. "It's Percy's. I snuck it out of the house, just in case. Show me that reverse again, please."

They shared a grin as Malcolm began to fly toward the hedge. He glanced over and saw that Ginny was next to him. As they reached the hedge, Malcolm twisted his broom around and began to fly in the other direction. Ginny twisted her broom the same way but lost her grip. She continued into the hedge while the broom followed Malcolm. He grabbed it and flew back.

"Are you hurt?"

"Mostly my pride," Ginny said as she crawled out of the hedge. Her jeans had a rip at the knee, and her face and arms had a few scratches, but she was none the worse for it. She looked at her jeans and moaned. "Mum's going to kill me when she sees me. I'm not supposed to be on a broom at all. Even though they let Ron fly when he was eight."

_It's funny, but I was just thinking what Reese would do._

"You know, Your mom's going to kill you for being on a broom. So it doesn't make any difference how long you're on a broom."

Ginny stared in surprise and then smiled. "Malcolm, that's brilliant."

"Care to try that reverse again?"

"Definitely."

* * *

They were laughing after the latest mishap. Ginny had tried to block but ended up running into Malcolm and both went rolling across the grass. As she picked herself up, a noise was heard coming from the direction of the house. Her smile became a frown.

"It's time to pay the piper, Malcolm."

"Why? Was that your mom calling?"

Ginny nodded. "And when she sees us, it will be obvious what we were doing."

"Trying to kill each other?" Malcolm grinned as she laughed. Both of them were dirty from the recent fall, and it wasn't the first. Ginny looked the worst but he wasn't as far behind. He had fewer scratches but that was about it.

The two children walked back to the house with brooms in hand, and talked about how they would explain themselves.

"Be direct," Malcolm suggested. "They'll be surprised. Use that time to tell them that this time at least you were flying with someone who knew what he was doing."

"But they'll punish me worse because they'll know it wasn't my first time."

"Yeah, but then they'll know you can fly at least as good as Ron. And then they'll let you fly. You have to think in the long term."

Ginny shook her head. "I have to hope Mum's in a good mood. If she's not, that just gives her one more thing to yell about."

_I can relate to that. My mom looks for reasons whenever she gets mad._

Mrs. Weasley was standing outside as Malcolm and Ginny walked around the corner of the house. They both stopped in their tracks because she wasn't looking at them. She was looking inside the house.

" . . . TOLD YOU A DOZEN TIMES. I WANT THAT HOUSE SPOTLESS. IT ISN'T SPOTLESS. CLEAN IT AGAIN."

Ginny's eyes went wide. Her mother was still furiously mad. And when she turned her head in Ginny's direction, she would probably reach a new height of anger.

"Malcolm," she whispered fearfully. "What should we do? Malcolm? Malcolm?"

Molly Weasley turned to see her daughter standing there dirty and disheveled, all alone except for the broom in her hand.

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?"

* * *

_Okay, here's the deal. I told the Weasleys I slipped in earlier and they believed me. Ginny's in her room as punishment so she's missing supper. And I'm going to try to get her off without implicating myself. After dealing with Mom, this should be a piece of cake._

"Malcolm, you should have told us you came back early," Arthur Weasley said as he passed the bread to him.

"I was going to, Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley seemed so upset, I thought it better to keep a low profile."

"I don't blame you, " Arthur said with a light laugh. "Molly is truly fearsome when she's in her wrath."

Malcolm turned to Molly. "I should apologize, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"It wasn't your fault, dear. Ginny is a stubborn girl with a mind of her own."

"Gee, that's how my mom describes me, except for the girl part. She says I got the worst of both her and my dad."

Arthur and Molly looked at each other. That was exactly how they described their daughter.

_I know. Ginny told me. I figured what the heck. Maybe if I get them to think about it, they might go easy on her. If not, at least I'm off the hook. Because I'm trying to help. Right?_

Arthur looked at Malcolm, trying to think of what to say. Then suddenly he thought of something. He reached over and patted Malcolm's head.

"Why is there grass in your hair?"

_Dang, I thought I brushed all of that out._

"Malcolm," Molly said in a frosty tone. "Why IS there grass in your hair?"

_My mind is blank. I can't think of a thing to say. Oh no, I just realized. I'm going to tell the truth. She's giving me the MOM look._

"Look, the reason Ginny was standing there by herself was because she didn't hear me tell her to follow me." Malcolm took confidence from the shocked silence that immediately followed. "She's pretty good on a broom, though, especially when you think about how hard it is to sneak away in a family this size. She bumped into me a couple of times but that's because she wasn't used to flying with other people." He took a deep breath and waited.

Everyone waited for a reaction from either parent. Finally, Molly Weasley began to laugh.

"She's been sneaking out under our very noses. Arthur, that girl takes after your side of the family."

Arthur grinned at the remark. "I don't know. I've always said she was her mother's daughter."

"And you say she can fly already?" Molly was laughing again. "Ron, go get your sister and tell her to come to dinner."

"But Mum, she's being punished?"

"Punished? For showing how clever she is? Not my daughter."

"We were being clever," Fred offered.

"Not with fireworks," Molly Weasley said, her anger returning in a flash. She smiled and turned back to Malcolm. "How did she get all those cuts?"

"I was teaching her how to do a reverse and, um, she went into the hedge."

"That must have hurt," Arthur chuckled, then added eagerly, "she didn't let that stop her?"

"No, Sir. She was on the broom again in a flash, demanding to know what she did wrong."

_Maybe it's me, but the Weasley's actually seem like decent people. I wish my family was like this._

"There she is," Molly said as though Ginny had just come down from taking a nap. She called her daughter to the table and sat her down. "Why didn't you tell us you knew how to fly? Why did we have to learn about it from one of our guests?"

Ginny gave Malcolm a confused look, and Malcolm gave her a weak smile and a shrug in return.

"I thought you'd be mad," Ginny admitted. "You always tell me I'm too young."

"For some things, you are, dear. But you have to let us know when something like this means so much to you. Promise me. No more secrets."

"I promise, Mum," Ginny said with believably sincerity.

"I don't believe this," Ron muttered to Malcolm. "She always gets away with everything."

* * *

"It gets worse every year," Molly said as she led the troop of Weasleys into Kings Cross Station. She patted Malcolm's shoulder and added, "Look at this. Muggles. All over the place."

_It's weird, but nobody is noticing us, not even Percy and his owl._

"Here we are," Molly Weasley said and everyone came to a stop. "Percy, you first."

Percy obligingly moved forward, aiming his cart at a spot in the wall and disappeared through it.

Malcolm's jaw dropped open. "That was amazing."

"That's just to keep the muggles out," Molly explained. "Fred, George, you're next."

"Right, Mom." The twins obediently followed their older brother.

"You should have checked their luggage again," Malcolm said as a joke.

"I did," Molly replied. "They always try to sneak something into the school. It's your turn, Malcolm. Try it at a run if you're scared. It's easier."

"Bye, Malcolm," Ginny said as she stepped up to him. "And thanks for the broom lessons." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he could react, then stepped back, giggling.

Malcolm quickly said goodbye as he began to blush, and ran for the partition. Behind him he could hear Molly Weasley. "Ginny, don't embarrass the boy like that. What will people think?"

"That I like him?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

Malcolm passed through the barrier, followed quickly by Ron, and both boys stopped to stare at the train, the Hogwarts Express. Fred and George helped them get settled into a compartment then turned to face their mother again for a last minute inspection. As she went through their pockets, Ginny looked into the compartment.

"Malcolm?"

"Yeah."

"You were a lot of fun to have around."

"Careful," Ron whispered, "she fancies you."

"I do not," Ginny said indignantly. "And Malcolm probably has lots of girls after him."

_Yeah, I wish._

She turned back to Malcolm. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

_I know what you're thinking. She's ten and I'm eleven. We're too young for things like this. But Ginny is different. She's not afraid to get dirty, and she likes sports, and she can even spit farther than I can. Ginny's not like other girls._

Malcolm grinned. "Yeah. I do."

Ginny grinned right back at him, then waved goodbye when her mother began calling.

"That put her in her place," Ron said appreciatively. "Do you really have a girlfriend?"

"Um?" _Let's see. Brother is best friend whom I will be at school with?_ "No way, I was just saying that."

"Malcolm, move over," George said as he entered the compartment with Fred. The whistle blew and the train began to move. At the same time, a spasm of pleasure went up Malcolm's spine.

_This is it. I'm actually on my way to school to learn magic._

"Malcolm?" Fred was looking at him. "We need to borrow your trunk for a few minutes."

"Sure, but what did you do with my clothes and stuff?"

Fred and George exchanged a quick look of surprise. "We put them in Ron's trunk. We couldn't risk trying to use his again."

"You didn't?" Ron asked indignantly. He looked at his brothers' smiles. "You did? And Malcolm, you let them?"

"He didn't know," Fred explained. "At least we thought he didn't."

"Not until I went to get my toothbrush," Malcolm answered. "I'm not sure what a filibuster is, but it doesn't work well when it's wet. And Fred?"

"Malcolm."

"I want a commission."

Fred and George smirked. "We could let you have a couple of Whiz-Bangs." They grabbed his suitcase and went to leave. "Ron, want to join us? Lee Jordan has a live Tarantula."

Ron paled slightly. "No thank you." After they left, he added, "I hate spiders."

Malcolm nodded. Ron had told him about the teddy bear.


	7. The Hogwarts Express

A/N: I wanted to respond to Shadowed Rains's review. Ron hates spiders because, when he was three, Fred and George changed his pet teddy bear into one. While he was holding it. The significance of this is that Ron does not want to even be near Lee Jordan's tarantula. I apologize but there is no special meaning.

I would also like to give a belated thanks to Saturn's Hikari who's review I somehow missed. She compared my writing style (favorably) to one of my favorite writers, Terry Prachett. I have every discworld novel he wrote, unless he just came out with a new one.

I would also like to repeat my usual thank you to everyone else who has read this, and especially to those who have reviewed. In closing, I hope all of you enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter Seven: The Hogwarts Express

_Okay, this is the story. Ron and I have spent the last two hours talking about Quidditch, magic and anything else we could think of. Now we're bored. Either something happens or we eat the corned beef sandwiches his mom gave us, just for something to do._

"Excuse me," a round-faced boy said as he opened the compartment door. "Have you seen a toad? I've lost Trevor."

_Let me clarify what I mean by something happening. It does not include lost frogs._

"Haven't seen one," Ron answered.

"If you do," the boy said, "could you let me know. My name's Neville."

"No problem," Malcolm nodded. "Return one lost frog to Neville."

"A toad."

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "What's the difference?"

Neville paused. "I'm not sure. I think it has to do with size?"

"I think he's right," Ron admitted.

"Fine. Neville, if we see anything that hops, we'll let you know."

"Thanks," Neville said as he closed the door.

"That was exciting," Malcolm commented. He nodded to Ron's rat which was fast asleep. "Almost as exciting as Scabbers."

Ron sighed. "That's the problem with being the youngest brother. Everything is a hand-me-down. Dad's wand, George's robes (only because you have Fred's) and Percy's pet."

The compartment door opened again. "Food cart, dears. Do you want anything?"

"Yes," Malcolm said as he walked up to the cart. He looked for a Hershey bar but saw candies he had never heard of. "Ron, What's good."

"It doesn't matter. I don't have any money."

"I've got some," Malcolm said and reached into his pocket. "What can I get for this?"

"How much are the Chocolate Frogs?" Ron asked as he looked at the coins in Malcolm's hand.

The Cart Lady smiled. "If you have one more Knut, you can get two."

Malcolm shrugged. "I'll take one, and what can I get for the rest of the money?"

"To be honest, dear," the Cart Lady said with a sad smile, then gave a smirk when Malcolm held up an American quarter. "Fair enough." She handed each of them a Chocolate Frog and pocketed Malcolm's money.

"These aren't real frogs?" Malcolm asked.

"Course not," Ron said as he bit into his frog. "Besides," he added with surprising clarity in view of the fact that his mouth was filled with chocolate, "it's the cards you want. I've got all of them except Ptolemy and Agrippa. Dang, I've got Circe. I've already got a half dozen of her."

_He learned the Dang from me._

"Hey. I've got Dumbledore." Malcolm waved at the figure on the card who smiled and waved back. He then read the back of the card about the twelve uses of dragons blood and Nicholas Flamel. "Ron, what's a Mugwump, in the world of magic? My letter said that he was a Supreme Mugwump."

"I don't know but it must be important if Dumbledore's one." Ron was curious. "Why did you ask 'in the world of magic'?"

"It's an American word, that's all. From 19th Century Politics. A mugwump is someone who tries to be on both sides of an issue. He's a fence straddler." At Ron's confused look, he added. "He sits on the fence with his mug on one side and his wump on the other."

Ron caught the joke and laughed. "It can't be that. Dumbledore is too important. He would never be a part of the group if it was something silly."

Malcolm nodded. He turned the card over and noticed that Dumbledore was gone. "He'll be back," Ron assured him as he put the card away.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." A bossy girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth was standing at the compartment door.

"Still haven't," Malcolm said.

"Are you the ones?" the girl asked.

"The ones what?"

"Who don't know the difference between a toad and a frog."

"No. We're the ones who don't care."

"Anyway, toads have rough skin and frogs have smooth skin. Now you know."

"We still don't care," Ron added, getting a frown from the girl in return.

"Fine. I hope you enjoy being ignorant." She began to close the door.

"HEY," Malcolm yelled and the girl paused. "If you're so smart, what's a Mugwump."

"It's an American term for a . . . Are you American?"

"No, and we know about the American term. What does it mean in the world of magic?"

Hermione paused as though she was thinking, then walked into the compartment and sat across from Malcolm. "You talk like an American. Why is that?"

"I'll keep looking," Neville said inconspicuously and walked away.

"It confuses people. Do you know what a Mugwump is?"

"It's a debating group. Wizards and Witches meet and arbitrarily pick sides of an issue and argue for an hour. Then they switch sides and argue for another hour. And you aren't confusing anyone. You're only being contrary . . ."

"Malcolm."

" . . . Malcolm. I'm Hermione Granger. It's clearly not a false accent because you've made no effort to change it. And . . . what is that?"

"That's Scabber's. My rat. Pathetic, isn't he. I'm Ron Weasley."

"A pleasure," Hermione said in an offhand way. "Malcolm, how is it you are going to Hogwarts if you are an American."

"Uncle Albus insisted on it."

_Heck, it's a lot more fun than the truth._

"Albus Dumbledore? How can he be your uncle? He's 150 years old."

"He's my Great Great Great Grand Uncle. He said he would enjoy having family around."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Then why is Ron laughing into his hand."

"He knows you don't believe me."

Hermione scowled as Malcolm laughed and unconsciously brushed the hair briefly from his forehead. Then her eyes lit up. "I KNOW who you are. I've read all about you. You're Harry . . ."

"No, I'm not. MY NAME IS MALCOLM."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in surprise at the outburst. "I thought . . ."

"His parents changed his name when he was adopted." Ron offered.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled." Malcolm tried to explain. "I have an uncle who has that . . . other name, and he's a real jerk. There's this kid, Harry Muniz, he met my uncle, and immediately demanded his name be changed to Frankie. I swear it's a true story."

Hermione was enthralled. "But aren't you supposed to . . ."

"Hair dye and contact lenses."

"Excuse me?"

"You wanted to know why my hair isn't black and why I don't wear glasses."

"No. I didn't know you were supposed to have black hair. Why do you use hair dye?"

"I don't."

Hermione smiled. "It must be because you grew up in America. You haven't made any sense at all." She stood up. "I should help Neville. At least I understand him." And she left.

As the door closed, Ron applauded. "That was bloody brilliant. You had her running in circles."

"I like the way she sat down like she owned the place," Malcolm said with false conviction.

The door opened again, and three boys looked inside. They did not look friendly.

"This was useless," the blond boy said. "Obviously the wrong compartment." He paused, then smirked, "Wait, I know you. Bright red hair and hand me down clothes. You must be a Weasley." With the disdain clear on his face, the boy turned to Malcolm. "You must be a cousin. Your hair is all wrong but your clothes are the same quality." He turned to his friends and added, "These two are pathetic."

"Those two?" Malcolm asked. "But they came with you. You must hate everybody." He said to the two taller boys. "Guys, I wouldn't take that from him if I were you."

The blond boy turned around in horror. "You're an American? How low has this school sunk that they would let one of you in?" His shock turned into a grin as he reached inside his robes. "Let's find out."

Malcolm jumped up and hit the boy. Ron jumped up and hit him again for good measure. Then they braced themselves for King and Kong to get past the blond boy and pummel them into the ground. At that point, one of them, possibly Kong, started screaming. A rat had jumped off the seat and bit his hand, and was holding on to it with its teeth. Scabbers Was Awake.

The boy with the rat screamed and shook his hand violently about, hitting both King and the blond boy in the process, until the rat went flying from his hand and hit the window. The rat slid down the glass and landed on the floor. The three boys, unsure of what they were dealing with, beat a hasty retreat. And Ron and Malcolm let out a shout of relief. Then, Ron reached down and gingerly picked up the limp body of his pet.

"I don't believe it?"

"Is he dead?"

"No," the disgusted voice replied. "He's asleep."

"I heard a scream?" Hermione was at the door again.

"Really?" Malcolm asked. "It wasn't from here. We were talking quietly until you opened the door to our compartment."

"The door was open when I arrived," Hermione said smugly.

"No, it wasn't," Ron added, taking his cue. "We watched you open it. You're acting barmy, you know."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, and turned to leave. She turned back and said to Ron, "Do you know? You have a smudge on your nose. Right there." When Ron scowled and rubbed his nose she smiled. "Besides, we're almost there. You'd best get ready."

"I think she hates us," Ron said as she left.

"Really? And I was on my best behavior."

* * *

# For those of you who are not familiar with Malcolm In The Middle, Frankie Muniz is the actor who plays Malcolm. 


	8. Hogwarts

A/N: I wanted to extend my sympathies to Shadowed Rain and xyvoetex. Both have expressed their regret for not keeping up with MITM. I don't have cable or a dish, and my reception is fuzzy. I haven't been able to watch the show since the middle of the year. I have to rely on web sites to follow the plots.

Also, a note to Daughter of Zorro. I have come across quite a few people who don't know who Harry Potter is. I must assume that there exists at least one person who has not watched Malcolm, and I will not let that one person be left out of the joke. It's one of those better safe than sorry things. Like having drive-up ATM's with Braille lettering on them.

CHAPTER EIGHT: HOGWARTS

"FIRST YEARS, THIS WAY."

Malcolm and Ron looked up to see Hagrid waving all the new students to the boats. "He's the one who delivered my letter."

"He is big," Ron agreed.

"Malcolm," Hagrid called out. "I'm glad ye made it. Ye worried me when ye didn't show up."

"You didn't tell me we were going to a different country."

"We weren't. It's still this country."

_Why do I have the feeling I'm the straight man here?_

"Not from where I was standing."

Hagrid grinned anyway. "Well, ye made it anyway. And I bet yer friend here is a Weasley."

"Ron Weasley," Ron said and smiled as his hand was engulfed by the Giant's paw.

"Let's get the two of ye into a boat. Yer sure to have a treat."

Malcolm and Ron smiled until they were put in a boat.

_Guess who's with us._

"Oh. It's you." Hermione made the words sound as if an odor accompanied them.

"An' this is yours, I believe."

"Trevor!" Neville said happily as he took the toad from Hagrid.

_At least one of us is happy._

Hermione looked away from them as the boats began to move. "Some people can find the boats on their own."

Malcolm sneered. "Some people can stop to talk to old friends."

Hermione laughed. "I suppose you know everyone at the school."

"Just Hagrid."

"And Dumbledore's not your great-uncle?"

"I never said he was."

"YOU DID TOO."

"When was this?" Ron asked. "I never heard about it."

"YOU'RE DOING THIS DELIBERATELY."

Malcolm smiled while Hermione fumed, Ron smirked and Neville looked for a way out of the boat that did not involve swimming. "Yes," Malcolm answered with a grin.

Hermione shoved Malcolm who fell backwards out of the boat in a loud splash. There was another splash and Malcolm came out of the water and landed on his feet in the boat.

"That was brilliant," Ron shouted. "How'd you do that?"

"Like this," Malcolm said, and pushed Hermione out of the boat. Ron stared in surprise as the same thing happened to her.

Malcolm sneered again. "Want to go another round, boss lady."

"You bet I do," Hermione responded angrily. "This time, try staying in the water."

"You'll have to keep me there."

"That's not a problem."

"Would you look at that," Ron said suddenly as he and Neville pointed. The argument was momentarily forgotten as Hogwarts castle came into view.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said, and Malcolm agreed. Then they both scowled as they realized they had talked to each other. They were scowling when the boats docked.

They squished out of the boat, their clothes still trailing water, when Hagrid stopped them. Neville gleefully kept going, happy to be away from them. The Giant signaled for Ron to go ahead as well.

"What do ye think ye were doing?" Hagrid demanded.

"She's always trying to boss people around."

"He's always being contrary whenever anyone talks to him."

Hagrid smiled grumpily. "Tha' explains it. Neither of ye was thinkin'. Jus' be thankful the Giant Squid threw ye both back in the boat."

"Giant Squid?" Hermione asked, with a hint of fear.

"Yeah. It lives in the lake."

"How big is it?" Malcolm asked, a glint in his eye.

"Too big to smuggle into the school, I'd wager." Hermione smirked as Malcolm scowled.

"I wasn't thinking of that," Malcolm retorted. "Hagrid, is he big enough that he can reach the school with one of his tentacles?"

"No," Hagrid answered. "An' don't smirk at me. Yer not the first one to ask." Malcolm and Hermione went to walk off. "Before ye go, I want ye to know this. The two of you are peas in a pod."

"He's not even . . . "

Hagrid cut her short. "Both of ye have the same problem. Ye both are too smart for yer own good." He then walked past them and up the steps to the main entrance.

"I am not too smart," Hermione said as she squished up the stone stairs after Hagrid.

"That's true," Malcolm said with a grin.

Hermione scowled and walked faster to get away from him.

* * *

Malcolm walked into the school to the sound of laughter. The blond haired boy was pointing him out and making some remark. For some reason this did not bother Malcolm at all. 

_I think it's because of the large bluish-red mark just below his eye._

"I am Professor McGonagall," an old stern-looking woman said as she walked up. "Shortly, you will be escorted into the Great Hall to be sorted into your houses. What happened to the two of you?"

Malcolm swallowed as Professor McGonagall looked at him and Hermione.

"Um, well . . . " Hermione began to say.

"Hagrid told us about the Giant Squid," Malcolm said in a cavalier voice. "We were curious if he was telling the truth. So we jumped into the lake."

"Oh, uh, yes," Hermione agreed immediately. "It was, um, er, wonderful."

"Really?" McGonagall's look told them that she knew they were lying or they were both idiots and they could take their pick.

"Professor?" Malfoy said raising his hand. "Is it true? My father, Lucius Malfoy, told me that the Boy-Who-Lived would be starting school this year, but we couldn't find him on the train."

"Then you must not have looked very hard, Mister Malfoy. Now, I want all of you to line up according to your names." Professor McGonagall walked over to Malcolm and put her hand on his shoulder. She put him in line behind a pair of twins named Patil. Ron gave him a quick smile and a nod toward Malfoy. Malcolm grinned. When Malfoy found out he was the BHL, the blond boy would be furious.

Someone screamed, and Malcolm looked around to see dozens of ghosts floating through the walls on their way to the Great Hall. One of them muttered as he floated over Malcolm's head. "The new students always seem to carry on so. I'm always amazed."

"First Years," McGonagall called, and led the way into the Great Hall.

_This is Great. I like the floating candles, and I bet the fake ceiling looks great during a thunderstorm._

Malcolm was amused by the singing hat, but he had been told all about it by Fred and George. (They told Ron that he had to wrestle a troll.) Then Hannah Abbott was called and the first girl in line sat on a stool and the hat was put on her head. Shortly it shouted, "Hufflepuff," and the girl ran off to the middle table on the left. The next girl went to Hufflepuff as well. Hermione Granger ended up in Gryffindor.

Draco Malfoy sat down and the hat immediately called out, "Slytherin". He jumped off the stool and cast an easy glance at the students still in line, smirking when he saw Malcolm. Malcolm brushed his cheek, returning the smirk. Malfoy scowled and turned to walk to the Slytherin table.

After the Patil sisters had been sorted, Malcolm suddenly realized why he had been put in line. It was not to keep him away from Hermione. It was because . . . "

Professor McGonagall started to call out the wrong name.

"NO. THAT'S NOT MY NAME."

The hall went silent. Almost every student and all the teachers knew which name was going to be called. Then the whispering started. It stopped again as Professor Dumbledore stood up.

_I know it's him. He looks just like his card._

"Malcolm, if you would only have waited." Dumbledore spoke softly, but his voice carried throughout the Great Hall. "Professor McGonagall was going to give your birth name, followed by your adoptive name. We wanted to avoid confusion in trying to explain who you are."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said with surprising sincerity. At least, it surprised him. "It's just that I can't stand that name. My uncle has that name. There was this guy, Harry Harris, he met my uncle and immediately changed his name to Richard. Honestly, it's a true story."

"I know it is," Dumbledore said with humor. "I've met your uncle. That is why I call myself Albus."

The entire hall erupted in laughter.

_That was amazing. He turned an embarrassing situation into a joke, and a joke that didn't make anyone feel small. I couldn't do that if I tried . . . The truth is I'd never try to do that._

"Malcolm," McGonagall said pensively. "Why don't you sit down, and we'll sort you"

"Curious," The hat said as it slid over Malcolm's head. "You would fit well anywhere. But where to put you."

Malcolm thought about Draco Malfoy. "Not Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin? But you would be great there. You would have many friends."

"Whose mind are you reading? I slugged that Malfoy jerk on the train. And you expect me to share a room with him for the next seven years?"

_I am willing to swear that hat is laughing at me._

"Gryffindor, then? You won't have to share a room with Hermione Granger."

Malcolm paused. "Will Ron get into Gryffindor?"

"He's a Weasley. It's a given."

"Cool . . . do you always talk with an American accent?"

_It's smirking again._

"I don't talk at all, Malcolm. You only hear me." Then the Sorting Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR."

The hat was pulled of his head, and Malcolm looked over to the far left table. Everyone there was applauding. Fred and George were standing on the benches shouting "We've got Malcolm."

Malcolm looked up at Professor McGonagall as he got off the stool. She was beaming, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at an older boy at the Gryffindor table. Malcolm would find out later that his name was Oliver Wood.

* * *

Malcolm squished as he sat down. That happens when your clothes are still wet. His eyes met Hermione's and they both turned away at once. Malcolm decided to look at the teacher's table instead. Hagrid gave him a thumbs up, which made him feel better. Then he noticed two teachers talking with each other. One of them, with greasy black hair, looked up unsmiling at him. Malcolm gave a grunt as his scar throbbed in pain. 

"Malcolm?" Percy, who was sitting next to him looked concerned.

"I'm fine," Malcolm said. "I think it's the wet clothes."

"I'll take care of it," Percy said as he stood up.

"Percy, who are those two guys? The one in the turban, and the greasy guy."

"Oh, that's Professor Quirrell with the turban. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. And the other one is Professor Snape. He teaches Potions."

"I don't think Snape likes me. He sneered when he looked at me."

"He's head of Slytherin House. The only way he'd like you is if you were in Slytherin. And it's not only you. He doesn't like anyone who's not in his house."

Percy went to the teacher's table and talked to a very short man who came back with him. "Malcolm, this is Professor Flitwick."

"All wet, young man?" Professor Flitwick was grinning. "All first years are, but you've taken it literally." He waved his wand and said something in Latin. Malcolm began to feel warm as steam rose off of his clothes. In less than a minute he was dry. "That was great."

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione said from across the table. Professor Flitwick repeated the charm and she was dry as well. "Thank you, Professor." She turned to Malcolm. "I do believe in being polite."

Flitwick barked a short laugh aimed at both the first years and walked back to his seat. Malcolm heard Ron's name being called, and looked up.

_Boy, he's really nervous. I should have told him what the hat said._

The hat shouted, "Gryffindor," and Ron gratefully ran to the table, sitting next to Malcolm. "That's a relief. Now all I have to do is survive Fred and George."

Blaise Zambini went to Slytherin, and the sorting was done.

Dumbledore stood up, looking in Malcolm's direction, then gave a short speech about the school rules. Percy said something which Malcolm didn't hear, but then the food appeared. Malcolm stared. There was more than enough of everything that he didn't need to rush to grab what he wanted. He was stunned. For the first time that he could remember, he could relax while he ate. He gorged himself, then sat back in satisfaction.

_Burrrp. Yeah, that felt good._

Suddenly, the foods disappeared, and the deserts took their place. With no great difficulty, Malcolm sat up and filled his plate again.

_That was a great first day of school. I hit some obnoxious blond kid. Then I tormented this bossy girl. And I ended it all by stuffing myself with more food than I thought I could eat. And now I get to lie in bed all night because I can't get to sleep. Oh, and one more thing. Burrrp._


	9. Classes Begin

Chapter Nine: Classes Begin

"Malcolm, Hermione, will the two of you stay."

Professor McGonagall had finished giving the Gryffindors their first lesson in transfiguration. And now she was looking at the two students with a mirthless smile.

"There seems to be a problem with the two of you. I would like to sort it out, NOW. How did the two of you manage to get into a fight on one of the boats?"

"We weren't fighting," Malcolm answered.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said with her head bowed. "That boy can be so irritating. I lost control of myself."

"Irritating?" Malcolm asked. "You should know. You know everything, and you don't mind letting everyone else know."

Hermione looked surprised. "You're mad at me because I tried to help?"

"I didn't need your help," Malcolm retorted, "and I didn't ask for your help."

"Only because you're not smart enough to know you need help."

"Both of you will have detention with me tonight."

Both Gryffindors stopped. Malcolm asked first. "What?"

Then Hermione asked. "Why, Professor?"

McGonagall crossed her arms. "It seems from the first moment the two of you met, you have been exchanging words with each other. Even now, neither of you will bother to stop. Perhaps a few extra hours of schooling will teach the two of you to hold your tongues."

Hermione smiled at the thought while Malcolm groaned.

"Both of you will come to my office directly after dinner tonight. Miss Granger, you may leave."

Hermione smirked as she walked out of the classroom. At least SHE wouldn't be late for the next class.

Malcolm smiled weakly at Professor McGonagall.

_Now she's going to talk to me about Malfoy. Let's face it. I'm dead in the water._

"Malcolm, Fred and George Weasley said that I should talk to you."

_YES!_

"They tell me that you are a natural on a broom." McGonagall paused and looked up. "Mister Weasley, you might as well come back in, unless you like listening at the door."

"Sorry." Ron walked into the classroom with a sheepish grin, his face as red as his hair.

"I assume you know about this?"

Ron beamed. "Oh, yes Ma'am. We've been training Malcolm for the past month. I'd swear he flies better than my brother Charlie."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "I could talk to Dumbledore . . . "

Malcolm couldn't help himself. "Would you? That would be great, Professor. I'd do anything to get on the Quidditch team."

_Uh, oh. I said the wrong thing. She's giving me that look. Yep, there's the smile. I'm doomed._

"Malcolm, there is the matter with Hermione Granger."

"I'll do it." Malcolm was crestfallen. "I'll apologize to her, and I'll be polite to her from now on."

_Now what? Her smile just got bigger._

"That is generous of you, Malcolm. I was only going to ask you to avoid her . . . but if you're willing to go that far, then I'm willing to forget about detention."

"Just for me, right?" Malcolm looked hopeful.

McGonagall's smile became genuine. "Why don't we only forget about her detention? I've just have a wonderful idea."

* * *

Hermione was sitting in Charms, waiting for Professor Flitwick to show up when Malcolm walked in. She frowned at him, wishing he had come later, like after class. Then Malcolm walked up to her and her frown deepened. 

"Um, Hermione," Malcolm said in a serious tone, which immediately made her suspicious.

_Why does everyone react like that?_

"Um, Hermione," Malcolm said again. "I wanted to apologize for the way I've been acting. I shouldn't have provoked you."

Hermione was stunned. Malcolm wasn't even smiling. It must be a trick. "It's a little late for that, isn't it. Now that we both have detention."

"Um, Hermione," Malcolm repeated. "I explained everything to Professor McGonagall. She said to tell you that you're excused, and you can stop by her office after class if you don't believe me."

"Really? You got me out of detention?" She saw Malcolm nod. "WHY?"

_Because for detention I have to go down to the broom shed Friday after dinner and dust all the brooms . . . and sneak one out to fly around on while McGonagall and Dumbledore "accidentally" spot me. That way, I get to be on the Quidditch team. That's why I'm doing this._

"Well . . . I've never been away from home before, and . . . I, I mean, no one was there to tell me to stop. I got carried away. I'm sorry. Honestly, I am." Malcolm wiped a tear from his eye.

_Francis taught me that trick when I was five. It's weird but Reese never learned how to do it and Dewey learned on his own._

Seamus Finnigan ruined the moment by saying, "You fancy her. Don't you?"

Malcolm went to hid in the corner but he could still hear the girls whispering. Hermione was among them.

"He really likes you," Lavender Brown said. "He's just immature about it. All boys are."

"I was convinced he was lying," Hermione replied. "Then he actually started to cry."

"Just wait," a third girl said. "Next he'll ask to carry your books."

"He is kind of cute," Pavarti Patil told them.

Malcolm could also hear the boys. Ron was among them.

"Seamus, that's stupid. Why would he like Little Miss Know-It-All?"

_Thanks, Ron._

"Think about it, Ron. She's smart, and Malcolm's not the fastest swimmer in the lake. He'll sit next to her during all the tests."

"I'll bet Hermione's not the type to cheat," Neville offered. "But he'll have a tutor whenever he needs one."

Dean Thomas, who was sitting next to Malcolm, turned and smiled, "Dear Diary . . ."

Malcolm frowned. " . . . today I pushed my roommate Dean down a flight of stairs."

Dean smirked. "Point taken . . ."

"DON'T SAY IT!"

" . . . Romeo."

_I think I hate the laughter more than anything. Where is Professor Flitwick anyway._

Professor Flitwick came in, one minute too late to catch anyone gossiping, and the class began with him partnering everyone. As it turned out, only one boy and girl were paired together.

_Yeah. I wonder how that happened? Anyway, I made the best of it. I did trade seats with her at one point to get a better angle. But here's the deal. Class is over. I'm just going to grab my books and head back to the common room._

"Oh," Hermione said in surprise. Behind her, Lavender was saying, "I told you."

Malcolm looked down. He had picked up Hermione's books by mistake. He had forgotten that they had switched seats so that he could get a better angle (and avoid getting hit by Ron's wand).

_This would happen to me. Think fast. Priorities: Don't tell the truth about what happened with McGonagall. And don't give Hermione any reason to get mad at me. Option one: put books down, start making excuses, mess up by forgetting which lies have been told. Option Two: . . . Dang. It's option two._

"I, uh, I'll carry your books for you . . . if you like, well, I mean, you know."

_Boy, was that smooth. At least all the words were in English . . . NO. She's blushing again._

"Uh, thank you, Malcolm." All the boys, except Ron, were grinning. Ron was slapping his hand to his forehead.

"Great," Malcolm lied cheerfully, as he picked up his own books as well. "Great," he whispered to himself with slightly less enthusiasm.

* * *

"What's that?" Ron asked when the owl dropped a letter in front of Malcolm, then waited while Malcolm finished filling his plate with breakfast. 

"Hagrid invited me down to his hut this afternoon."

"The giant? That should be fun. Are you going?"

Malcolm paused. "Yeah. I kinda owe him."

"What do you mean?"

"You know he delivered my letter personally. We wouldn't let him in 'cause my dad thought he was a salesman. Do you want to come?"

"I'd love to." Ron looked up and hurriedly whispered, "your girlfriend's coming."

"She's not my girlfriend."

Ron smirked. "Then you should tell her. Hi, Hermione."

"Hi, Ron. Malcolm, what are you doing after potions today?"

"Oh, I, um . . ."

"He has to see the Groundskeeper," Ron offered.

Hermione sighed. "Malcolm, what did you do now?"

"I don't know. That's why I have to . . ."

". . . see the Groundskeeper," Hermione finished. She put her books down and sat next to Malcolm. "Really, I don't know what I see in you anyway. I think you attract trouble."

_She's right about that. Look who sat down next to me._

It was by no amount of chance that Hermione and Malcolm were sitting next to each other for their first Potions lesson. Professor Snape walked in and sneered at the entire class. He gave his introductory speech, then looked directly at Malcolm.

"Let me see if I remember. You call yourself Malcolm, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you think changing your name adds to your celebrity?" Several of the Slytherins in the classroom snickered.

_What's with this guy? He gives me a dirty look on the first day. And now he's deliberately making fun of me._

"I never thought of it that way, Sir. You could be right." Malcolm smiled.

"Oh, what a clever wit." Snape's mocking tone was obvious even to Crabbe and Goyle. "Then let us see how smart you really are. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?"

"Um," Malcolm said as Hermione raised her hand. " Wolfbane blooms . . ." Hermione gave an agitated sigh and kept her hand raised. "I don't know."

Professor Snape smiled. "Such a pity. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand was raised and she was waving it.

"Oh stop that, you silly girl."

Hurt by his remarks, she lowered his hand. Snape turned back to Malcolm.

"Well?"

"I don't know . . . Sir." Malcolm was still smiling.

"Really? Then where would I find a bezoar?"

"Hey, I know that one." Everyone stared at Malcolm, who for some stupid reason was still smiling. "In a bee's boat!"

Snape gave a confused frown. "Excuse me."

"Sure," Malcolm answered. "You said a bee's oar. You'd find a bee's oar in a bee's boat. But if the bee's oar is not in the bee's boat then maybe it's because the bee has it STUCK UP HIS ASS!!!"

_It was worth it._

* * *

Fred and George were grinning when they found Malcolm. 

"Twenty points."

"That was great."

"Snape's tied in knots over what you did."

"I don't believe you," Percy said as he walked up to his brothers. "Malcolm is supposed to learn to respect teachers as a result of this and you make it sound like something to celebrate."

"That's not it at all," Fred told his brother.

"Yeah," George replied. "Now you won't be complaining about how many points we lose."

"That's right," Fred continued. "Now we can always point to Malcolm, Mister pinhead."

"That's prefect," Percy corrected. "Malcolm, learn your lesson well, and don't listen to these two. If you will excuse me, I have 'important' things to do."

"I, for one, am glad Malcolm said those things."

Everyone turned to look at Hermione.

"YOU?" Ron asked in amazement.

"Professor Snape was being deliberately rude. It serves him right that someone would stand up to him, not caring about grades or house points but simply standing up for the right thing."

_She's mad because Snape called her a silly girl._

"I wouldn't do it, of course," Hermione continued. She slumped down on the couch next to Malcolm and took his hand. Then she added softly, "but I wish I did."

"The Irish kid was right," Fred whispered loudly to George. "She does fancy him."

"And look at Malcolm," George noted. "See the way he's blushing."

"Guys," Ron said in annoyance, and took them aside to explain.

_This is terrible. Hermione actually thinks I like her. She's already told me that she didn't have many friends at her old school because she was always showing off to everyone how smart she was. And she told me how all the other girls want to talk to her now. And now this thing with Snape. It's only Friday and Hermione is already the most popular kid in school. And it's all because of a lie. It's all because I'm trying to trick my way onto the Quidditch team. But I've already decided what I'm going to do about all of it. I'm going to ask her to come with me. Then when I get 'caught' I can say I was just trying to show off for her._

"Hermione," Malcolm asked mischievously, "would you like to join me in detention?"

Hermione gave him a curious look. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I'm supposed to clean the brooms in the broom shed, but I thought if you came with me, I could, um, show you how to ride a broom."

"You know how to ride a broom?"

"Yeah, and McGonagall's only going to check on me at the end. I could show you the basics, you know, give you a step up for our first class next Friday."

_Do you see her eye's light up. Once I mentioned class._

"I'd love to," Hermione said, and impulsively gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I forgot," Malcolm said hastily as he stood up. "I have to go see Hagrid."

* * *

_I wish he wouldn't laugh like that._

"Tha' has to be a lie," Hagrid said between guffaws.

"It's true," Ron told the giant as he tried to feed his cookie to the bloodhound, Fang. "Hermione thinks that Malcolm was sticking up for her when he said that."

"An' ye told her tha' ye liked her?"

"Nooo," Malcolm said earnestly. "I just didn't tell her that I didn't like her."

"An' why not?"

Malcolm and Ron were both grinning. "As long as Hermione Granger doesn't complain about me, McGonagall's going to let me try out for the Quidditch team . . . after she bends the rules a little."

"She'll need Dumbledore's approval," Hagrid noted.

"And I have detention tonight. I have to clean out the broom shed."

Hagrid smirked. "Ye know. Ye should invite that little girlfrien' o' yours."

"I already did," Malcolm said. "She can be my alibi."

Hagrid laughed again, then passed out more cookies. "Ye must really like them, Ron. Tha's yer fourth one."

Ron smiled weakly while Fang looked lovingly at his hand.


	10. Love and Quidditch

A/N: At one point in this chapter, I change the font size for the comments of one of the characters. Unfortunately, this did not carry over when I uploaded the document. The size of the letters was reduced to normal size. I have edited the storyline to add the phrase "really large letters here" just before those comments. When you come across this phrase, please imagine that the next comment made is in letters three inches high instead of the normal size. Thank you for your cooperation - HiBob

Chapter Ten: Love and Quidditch

Malcolm looked around to make sure no one was watching, then snuck out of the broom shed with two brooms. He quickly ran to the pitch where Hermione was waiting.

_Actually, I looked around to make sure no one was visible. I know Hagrid's watching from somewhere. So is Ron. And Fred and George. And Seamus and Dean. And Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil. Oh, and Oliver Wood and the rest of the Quidditch team._

Malcolm smiled at a figure in the shadows, thinking it was Ron. The figure gave him a thumbs up.

_I don't believe it. You can add Percy to the list._

"Are you ready, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione said nervously as she took one of the brooms. "I'm thankful no one is watching. I think I'd die of embarrassment."

"We're the only ones here," Malcolm lied cheerfully. "We have time, so why don't I show you how to mount a broom."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean by 'we have time'?"

"I, um, mean we have time. Um, Hagrid won't be checking on us for a while." Malcolm showed Hermione how to hold the broom, then had her kick off.

"This is GREAT," Hermione shouted. "I'm actually flying. And on my first try."

_Yeah, at one mile an hour and three feet off the ground._

"That's great Hermione. Now pull up on the broom so you can stop."

Despite her slow progress, she pulled back on her broom and made a successful landing.

_All she did was put her feet down._

"Malcolm." Hermione gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you for showing me how to use a broom."

"All I showed you was how to stay on. You still need to learn to go faster, and higher. Why don't you practice some more? We'll see how fast you can go."

With Malcolm's coaching, Hermione was soon able to fly comfortably at speeds in excess of five miles an hour. She couldn't manage a turn faster than that. And while she had no problem with heights, she was no fool either. Falling off a broom hurts less at three feet than at thirty feet. She also liked the fact that Malcolm paced her. About ten minutes before McGonagall was supposed to arrive with Dumbledore, she even asked the magic question.

"Malcolm. Could you show me how good you are at flying? You're obviously better than me. I'd like to know how much better."

"Sure," Malcolm said cheerfully.

"It's about time," a voice said from the shadows.

"Who's there?" Hermione said with a tint of fear.

"Oy, just us," Fred said as he and George revealed themselves. "We came down hoping that Malcolm would show off."

Hermione glanced in surprise at Malcolm who could only shrug his shoulders.

George grinned. "Sorry to scare you like that. Malcolm, show her the figure eight."

"Hermione," Malcolm cautioned. "They do know how good I am."

Malcolm kicked off flying out and up in a smooth arc. When he had finished half a circle, he was thirty feet above and upside down. He did another half circle after that and he was sixty feet over their heads and sitting upright. But Malcolm did not stop there. He completed the top circle, upside down again. Then the bottom circle. He stopped in his original position.

Hermione was amazed. He did the figure eight. But he did it straight up and down. She was even more amazed when she heard the applause from a dozen people.

"We brought a few friends," George explained, then added quickly. "Malcolm, show her what else you can do."

Malcolm was off. He flew around the pitch, then changed directions and flew the other way. He made sharp turns and several more loops. Then someone out of sight threw a golf ball into the air. From fifty feet away Malcolm turned and dove, catching the ball inches from the ground. He held the ball up in a victory salute while everyone applauded.

"WELL DONE, MALCOLM. WELL DONE." Dumbledore's voice boomed across the pitch. Malcolm looked to see the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall walking across the pitch to where Hermione was standing with Fred and George. He flew back and landed easily.

Hermione was glaring at Malcolm. "This was all planned. Wasn't it?"

Dumbledore smiled before anyone could speak. "Indeed it was, Miss Granger. And it seems that you and I were the only ones who weren't told."

"You didn't know either?" There was surprise in Hermione's voice.

"No, but I did make an educated guess."

Hermione turned to Malcolm. "You tricked me into coming here. I was just your excuse in case you got caught."

"And he was thorough in setting up his alibi." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "It was a clever plan."

Hermione was fuming. The only reason she wasn't saying anything was because she couldn't think of the right words to say. That was when George made his comment.

"He could have spent less time on the lessons. Kept us all waiting for most of an hour."

_That's my cue._

Malcolm gave Hermione a frown of his own. "I thought it was only going to be the two of us. I didn't expect half of Gryffindor to follow. That's why I had detention and you didn't. So I could show off."

Hermione looked at Malcolm . . . and snorted. "You do have a talent for getting into trouble. At least now you get to play Quidditch?"

"No, he does not," Dumbledore said, looking around at all of the people who had given up on hiding. "First-year students are not allowed to try out for the Quidditch teams. It would not do to change the rules just for one student or one house even if it is my own."

Amid the groans, Hermione raised her hand.

"This is not a classroom, Miss Granger."

"Professor, I was wondering. Could you change the rules for a group of students, if it affected all of the houses?"

"And what did you have in mind?"

"You could let all the first years try out, and you could make it an experiment, to see about making a permanent change to the rules."

"That's bloody brilliant."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again. "Thank you, Ronald Weasley, for that assessment. I will consider the idea, Miss Granger. I will let everyone know my decision at dinner, tomorrow night. Now, since it is getting dark, I suggest everyone return to their houses."

Hermione walked coyly to Malcolm while everyone was cheering. She smiled broadly as everyone turned to watch what she was doing. "Thank you for including me in this." Then she kissed him.

"Congratulations, Malcolm." Fred and George began shaking him. "You may actually make it on the team."

"And you've still got your little girlfriend."

Malcolm groaned.

* * *

The next morning, Malcolm and Ron were at breakfast when an old friend showed up. 

"Look at them. The two charity cases."

Malcolm looked up and smiled. "You're looking better today, Draco. You have both eyes open."

Ron smirked. "Do you want us to shut the other one for you?"

Malcolm and Ron weren't worried. They were in the Great Hall and there were plenty of teachers around. Malfoy and his friends wouldn't dare to try anything.

"Watch it, Weasel," Malfoy said. "And you, Malcolm. If you think you're so special, why don't you prove it. Wizards duel. Midnight tonight. Unless you're scared."

When Crabbe and Goyle laughed, Ron sneered in reply. "He's not scared of you. He'll be there. And I'm his second. Who's yours?"

Malfoy paused and looked at his friends. "Goyle."

"Where?" Malcolm asked.

"The trophy room. The door's always unlocked."

"Fine. We'll be there."

As Malfoy and his goons left, Malcolm had to ask. "What's a wizard duel? Is it like High Noon or something?"

"No, you heard him, it's at midnight."

Malcolm snorted. "I meant the movie. You know, cowboys facing each other in the street and shooting at each other."

"Yeah," Ron said after Malcolm explained what a western was.

_Maybe Hermione's right. I do seem to attract trouble._

"Good morning, Malcolm," Hermione said as she sat down. "What are you doing today? I thought we could go to the library and . . ." She paused as Malcolm stared at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I thought I'd do something outside today. You know, in the fresh air."

"That's a wonderful idea. We could bring our books with us."

"No books," Ron insisted.

"YOU don't have to come then." Hermione turned back to Malcolm and smiled. "We could study down by the lake."

"Hermione, it's Saturday. I will not study on a Saturday. I refuse." Malcolm turned to Ron. "Do you know if we can go swimming? It's warm enough?"

"Yeah. Fred and George swim whenever they can."

"Great. Hermione, do you want to come?"

"I . . . I don't have a swim suit."

_And Malcolm does it again. I've gotten rid of her without offending her. Am I good or what?_

"That does sound like fun," Lavender Brown said from across the table. "Do you mind if we join you. Hermione, I have a spare suit if you think it will fit."

Seamus Finnigan looked over at them. "If you and Pavarti are going, mind if I join in?"

_Well. At least it's not just me and Hermione._

* * *

_This turned out to be great. Fred and George were already planning on coming down here to the lake. They knew the perfect spot. And I swear there must be about twenty of us. Of course, I didn't tell anyone what George told me. Swimming's not allowed. But then, if they don't know about it, they won't object. Except for one person who's too afraid._

"Neville, just jump in. The water won't bite you."

"I don't know how to swim."

"You could learn. And the water's only four foot deep right here."

"But . . ."

"Look, Neville. I've been in this situation before. If you don't jump in where it's shallow, someone will throw you in where it's deep, just for the fun of it."

"No they won't."

"Really. Tell that to Fred and George. They're sneaking up behind you."

SPLASH

Neville turned around after he jumped in and saw no one.

"Sorry, Neville. It turns out that Fred and George are over there, diving off the log."

"Guess Who," Someone said suddenly as they came up behind and splashed both boys.

Malcolm turned around to face Hermione, keeping a smile on his face.

"Having fun?"

"This was a great idea, Malcolm. I'm going to tell everyone about this."

"UH."

Hermione frowned. "What did you mean by 'uh'?"

Malcolm leaned in to whisper. "Swimming's not allowed in the lake."

_I like the way her face changes colors. Watch as I get her to keep quiet._

"Be careful," he whispered. "I don't want Neville to know. He's scared enough as it is."

_Am I good or what?_

* * *

Ron woke Malcolm at half-past Eleven. They dressed quickly and slipped out of their dorm room and into the common room. 

"It is true," Hermione hissed. "I thought that duel was another one of your lies."

"When did I lie to you?" Malcolm asked.

_Except for when I told her I liked her. Except when I told her, well, anything really._

"How about this afternoon? You told me we weren't allowed to go swimming in the lake, after we were in the lake."

"That wasn't a lie. I'd call it a misdirection. Anyway, we've got to go."

Hermione gasped in surprise. "If you go, I'll tell McGonagall."

Malcolm stopped. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. If you're going to be my boyfriend, you're going to have to show some restraint."

"Restraint?" Ron asked.

"Self control," Hermione answered.

"Submission to her authority," Malcolm replied. "Fine, Hermione. I won't go. I'll let Snape's favorite student brag about the cowardly Gryffindor and that silly girl he has as a girlfriend. I'm sure it will never come up in Potions."

_Hey, that's pretty good thinking on my part._

"Well," Hermione paused, "I'm going with you."

"You want to watch me kick his butt."

"Yeah, uh, NO, of course not. I want to make sure no one gets hurt."

Ron smirked. "That's good enough for me. Let's go."

They walked out of the common room and proceeded down the hall. After five feet, Malcolm tripped.

"Ow," Neville Longbottom yelled.

"Shhh!" Hermione admonished. "Neville, what are you doing out here? It's after hours. You could get in trouble."

"I forgot the password again. I was hoping someone would come by to let me in. I guess I fell asleep."

"I'll get you in." Hermione turned around. "She's gone. The Fat Lady's gone."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "She must have gone to visit a friend."

Hermione helped Neville up. "You'd better come with us. You don't want Filch to find you."

"Thanks." Neville stood up and brushed himself off. Then he asked in a confused voice, "What are you doing out? It must be after midnight."

"Close," Malcolm told him. "It's only fifteen till. C'Mon."

Malcolm led the way to the trophy room in record time, noting with a smirk that they still managed to beat Malfoy there. Then Hermione ruined his good mood.

"Malcolm, I just thought. What if this is a trick. What if Malfoy doesn't show?"

In response, a cat meowed in the hallway.

"This way," Malcolm whispered. "Quick."

All four students ran as quickly as they could out of the trophy room into the far hallway. As they turned the corner, Filch's voice could be heard.

"You have their scent, Mrs. Norris. After them."

They ran down one corridor and up another, then up two flights of stairs and down a dark hallway which ended with a locked door. Mrs. Norris was still after them.

"It's locked," Ron said.

"Move over," Hermione told him and pulled out her wand. "Alohamora."

The door opened and the four ran inside closing it behind them. Then they waited, listening for the slightest noise from the hallway.

"Do you hear anything, Malcolm?" Ron asked

"Only Neville's heavy breathing from behind me."

"I'm not behind you," Neville said from the other side of Hermione.

"Then . . ." Malcolm turned around. "Guys, don't panic. Turn around slowly."

"What is it?" Neville asked as he closed his eyes.

"A dog."

"Is it a big dog?"

"It's a very big dog."

Neville risked opening his eyes. "You didn't mention the three heads."

"I was getting to that."

_A GIANT THREE-HEADED DOG. AND IT'S ANGRY. WHAT DO I DO? I know. Don't show fear. Show it, them, it, I'm not afraid._

"Huh, uh, huh, uh, uh."

Hermione frowned. "Malcolm, did you just hum that piece from Close Encounters of the Third Kind?"

"Did I?" Malcolm looked up and noticed the dog staring at him. "That's it. The dog likes music. Let's sing something."

Ron stared at Malcolm like he was mad. Fear was obvious in his voice. "What would you suggest?"

The giant dog started growling when Malcolm stepped forward.

_Look, if this works, I'll be a hero. And if it doesn't at least it's a quick death._

"How much is that doggie in the window. Arf. Arf. / The one with the waggily tale. / How much is that doggie in the window. Arf. Arf. / I do hope that doggie's for sale."

"I don't believe it," Hermione muttered. "It's actually working. He's wagging his tale."

"Really," Ron replied. "I thought that was a sledgehammer hitting the walls."

Neville whimpered. "Keep singing, Malcolm. The dog's starting to look mean again."

_OK, second verse, with hand movements. I have to admit it. I'm actually enjoying this._

"I must take a trip to California / And leave my poor sweetheart alone / if she has a dog she won't be lonesome / and the doggie will have a good home." Malcolm smirked. "Ok guys, join me for the chorus."

"You have to be kidding," Hermione suggested.

Malcolm began to sing again. This time with unexpected accompaniment. "How much is that doggie in the window."

(really large letters here) "ARF. ARF."

"I do hope that doggie's for sale. / How much is that doggie in the window."

(really large letters here) "ARF. ARF."

"Are you crazy? What are you students doing in here?" Argus Filch grabbed Ron and Malcolm and dragged them out of the room.

"HELP," Neville screamed as the dog grabbed him and began licking him. Hermione grabbed Neville's hand and dragged him to safety but not before he was covered head to toe in dog drool.

Argus Filch stared in surprise. "That's one for the books. I expected him to eat you, not keep you for a chew toe."

Malcolm smiled. "Mister Filch, I can explain everything."

Dumbledore's voice was heard from the far end of the hallway. "Can you explain waking up the entire school with your antics? Malcolm, you set that dog to barking and it can be heard throughout the entire school."

"Better than being eaten," Ron muttered.

Filch gave him a humourless smile. "Do you really think so? Maybe I can prove you wrong."

"Sir," Malcolm said, with the smile still on his face, "I can explain everything. Really."

Dumbledore frowned. "I doubt that, Malcolm, but do try. I could use the amusement."

"We were looking for Neville, Sir. We noticed he hadn't returned to the dorm."

"And you found him in the third floor corridor, where you are specifically forbidden to go?"

"No, Sir. We found him sleeping in the hallway, right outside of Gryffindor."

"Ah, and why didn't you return to the dorm with him?"

"The fat lady was gone. We couldn't get back in. Then we thought we heard someone, and we started to run so we wouldn't get caught."

Dumbledore smiled. "Malcolm, didn't it ever occur to you that you had a legitimate reason for being out of your house?"

"Um, no sir," Malcolm answered honestly. "I figured they would think I was making up an excuse."

"He's right, you know," Filch noted. "And he's only been here a week. I wouldn't believe him."

"Neither would I," Hermione added.

"Hmm," Dumbledore muttered, "with that kind of endorsement, Malcolm, I must concede the point. Mister Filch will escort the four of you back to your house and I will have Professor McGonagall talk to you in the morning."

"Sir," Neville asked, "Can you do something about the smell."

Dumbledore nodded. "Mister Filch, could you take Mister Longbottom to the Prefects Bathroom, then bring him a change of clothes."

Filch wrinkled his nose as he smelled Neville. "I'd be glad too."


	11. Halloween

A/N: I must begin with an apology to Ouatic7 for my misspelling. I attribute it to the fact that most of my author's notes are written between the time I eat breakfast and the time I leave for work. I'm surprised I haven't made more mistakes.

You also asked an interesting question about Harry as Malcolm. Is he a genius? The answer is yes. This is based upon McGonagall's remark in the Prisoner of Azkaban (Chapter 10 per the HP Lexicon) that Harry's father, James, was exceptionally bright. That Malcolm would show his intelligence is more a matter of nurture instead of nature. That is the result of Malcolm being raised in a loving yet dysfunctional family as opposed to Harry in an unloving and dysfunctional family.

As to Ron and Neville. After the incident with Fluffy, even if they do know the words they will never admit it.

I would also like to thank Romantic 2 for reviewing. Your reviews do give me pause to think about what I have written. I may not improve the current story very much, as it has already been written, but criticism always provide food for thought. You are right about one thing; this story is an infringement against Harryness, but I think that's the point of the story. If you really look at what's going on you will notice that for all his amusement Malcolm is not a nice person, unless he's faking it.

To raela koira I would like to say that this story is designed to be separate from the other Malcolm/Harry stories. Also, unlike Hogwarts in the Middle, this will not be a series of stories. I would like to say that the reason will become obvious as the story unfolds but that is not the case. This story was written at the behest of several people who liked the Malcolm series and did not want to wait for book six to come out. I won't even try to write Harry's, er, Malcolm's second year. There are other things I want to do.

My thanks to everyone who has read this story and especially those who have reviewed. And a special thanks to those who have read what appears to be a long and meandering Author's note.

Chapter Eleven: Hallowe'en

"Mail's here," Hermione noted, and the owls could be seen flying into the common room.

An owl swooped down and dropped a large package on the table in front of Malcolm. Surprisingly, it missed all the plates and goblets.

_Mom did it. She said yes._

"Malcolm," Ron asked with excitement, "is that what I think it is?"

"Yep," Malcolm answered proudly as he read the attached letter. "Mom agreed to let me buy a broom. She had your dad pick it up for me."

"Let's open it," Hermione added, feeling the excitement.

As the paper wrapping was torn away, Ron's eyes lit up. "That's a Nimbus Two Thousand. They're the fastest brooms around."

"Do we have time to try it out before class," Malcolm asked.

"Only if you want company," Hermione noted, and pointed toward the Slytherin table.

The Slytherins were cheering as broom-shaped packages were delivered to the Quidditch players in their house. Malcolm noted with bitterness that a package landed in front of Draco Malfoy.

"It looks like someone bought their way onto the team."

Malcolm turned at Hermione's comment. It was as though she was reading his mind.

_Remember, she convinced Dumbledore it would be fair to let ALL first years try out. And I can see one Slytherin grumbling. I bet he's the one who got bumped from the team._

* * *

"Malcolm," Ron shouted in a frustrated voice. "You have to tell her. That girl is following you everywhere." He turned in disgust and looked back at the fireplace.

Malcolm, sitting next to him on the couch, sighed.

"Look, Ron, if you have any ideas, let me know. If she complains when I tell her, I'm off the team. That's the deal."

Ron looked annoyed. "She's starting to ask me why I'm hanging around you. She thinks that I'm the one in the way."

Malcolm looked incredulous. "One more week. After the first game, I'll tell Hermione the truth."

"One more week? Tonight's the Hallowe'en feast. She wants to sit with us. WITH YOU, lover boy. Why couldn't you just promise not to bother her anymore?"

"Promise not to tell," Malcolm whispered.

"Sure," Ron whispered, his curiosity showing.

"It's the way she looks at me. It's like staring at a big puppy." Malcolm shuddered.

"MALCOLM, JUST TELL HER."

"RIGHT. JUST SHOUT OUT HERMIONE I TRICKED YOU. I HAVE TO BE NICE TO YOU TO PLAY QUIDDITCH."

"You don't have to shout," a third voice said.

Malcolm and Ron looked over to see Hermione standing there, tears forming in her eyes.

"I hate you, Malcolm."

Hermione ran from the common room and out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"You're right," Ron said. "She does have puppy dog eyes."

"And now I feel bad."

Ron put a reassuring hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "At least you can be honest with her. Now that she knows."

Malcolm looked surprised. "Who cares about being honest? Once she tells McGonagall what happened, I'll be thrown of the team."

Ron scowled. "Now I feel bad, too." Then he smiled. "At least we can enjoy the Hallowe'en party."

_That's why I like Ron. He always says the right thing to make me feel better._

The two Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall in anticipation of a good time. They happily sat down and began to fill their plates.

"Where's Hermione?" Seamus asked with a grin.

"Don't know," Malcolm answered with a smile.

"Don't care," Ron answered with a bigger smile.

Neville leaned over to talk to them. "Pavarti Patil says she saw Hermione run into the girl's bathroom. She was crying."

"She's such a bore," Ron replied. "Why should we care? Right Malcolm."

Then Malcolm began to stare at his plate.

"Malcolm?"

"Ron, I can't eat." Malcolm's voice seemed shaky. "I've lost my appetite. I might be sick."

Lavender Brown snickered from where she sat next to Neville. "Maybe it's your conscience. Did you do anything lately that you shouldn't have?"

Malcolm looked at Ron, and both boys began nodding their heads. "Sure, plenty of stuff. What's that got to do with anything?"

_It can't be my conscience. I got rid of that thing years ago. Here, I'll eat something to prove it._

Malcolm reached onto his plate and picked up a muffin and took a bite.

_Hmm. My mouth is dry. And I can't taste anything. Dang. Now I have to go find Hermione._

"Neville, did Pavarti happen to say which bathroom Hermione went to?"

* * *

Hermione sat in one of the stalls. Her eyes were red from crying. She had to stop because she had no more tears left. That was when she heard the footsteps.

"Who's there?"

"Hermione?"

"Malcolm?" Anger rose in her voice. "You're not supposed to be in the girl's bathroom."

"I wanted to apologize."

_There. That should make me feel better. Umm. Nope. I guess I should try a little harder. I hate this conscience stuff._

"Hermione, I did something stupid. I know I shouldn't have lied to you. I know it was wrong."

_Yeah. That sounded believable._

Hermione opened the door to the stall and looked at Malcolm. "You tricked me into thinking you liked me, just so you could play a stupid game." Her tone of voice told Malcolm to keep quiet. "You invited me to watch you fly a broom. You let me tutor you in charms. You had me helping you with your homework. You even gave me that box of cookies that your mother sent you." Hermione's voice had been gradually rising until she was now screaming. "AND NOW EVERYTHING IS FINE BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WERE SORRY."

"I AM SORRY," Malcolm yelled back. "DO YOU THINK I WOULD DELIBERATELY WALK INTO THE GIRL'S BATHROOM FOR ANY OTHER REASON?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a cruel smile.

"Well, yeah, I would. Well, would I walk in empty handed?"

_This conscience thing is really getting to me. I keep feeling worse and worse. How can I get rid of this thing?_

"Hermione, I would have told you before, but I didn't want to hurt you."

"And now you do?"

"No. I don't want you to be hurt by what I did."

_Okay. My conscience is getting to me, so since I can't get rid of the guilt I'll just build on it._

Hermione fumed. "YOU DON'T WANT ME TO BE HURT BECAUSE YOU LIED TO ME? BECAUSE YOU LED ME ON? BECAUSE YOU MADE ME A LAUGHING STOCK TO EVERYONE? I HATE YOU, MALCOLM."

"YEAH, WELL I HATE YOU, TOO. I TRIED TO FIND A WAY TO TELL YOU I DIDN'T LIKE YOU, BUT I KNEW YOU'D ACT LIKE THIS."

"AURGHH."

"DON'T GROWL AT ME, MALCOLM."

"I DON'T GROWL."

"AURGHH."

Both Malcolm and Hermione turned their heads to the entrance. Hermione immediately screamed and closed the stall door behind her. Malcolm simply stared.

And the troll said, "AURGHH."

"Stand back, fell beast," Malcolm said dramatically as he drew his wand.

"YAAAH-Umph," Malcolm said shortly afterward as he jumped out of the way of the troll's club.

"MALCOLM?" Hermione yelled in concern as she saw the boy she despised a moment before dive underneath the row of sinks. From her position on the floor she had a clear view of Malcolm and the troll's feet. The feet turned toward her. This time, she yelled in fear as she tried to crawl away from the troll's club. "MALCOLM?"

Malcolm looked up as the club narrowly missed Hermione. In an act of bravado, he charged the troll, literally running up the club, his wand out. The troll lifted its club, sending Malcolm flying toward its head. Malcolm hit the troll's nose and bounced off, landing hard on the floor. Looking up, he saw the troll looking at him in surprise. He also saw his wand sticking in one of its nostrils. Both troll and boy turned when they heard the noise.

"Ron?" Malcolm asked painfully when he saw his friend standing in the doorway.

"Um, I came to warm you about . . ." He pointed at you know what.

"Oh, thanks," Malcolm said gratefully, as though Ron's telling him actually made things better.

"MALCOLM!!!"

Hermione's voice distracted Malcolm. He looked over and she was looking above him. He looked up and saw the troll looking down at him. Then he saw the club start to descend.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron called out.

The club floated out of the troll's hand and over its head. The troll looked up just as the club dropped on its head with a sickening thud. The club fell next to Malcolm, missing him by two feet. Above him, the troll swayed, then fell backwards into what remained of the stalls.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked.

"I wish," Malcolm said. "Let's get out of here and tell a teacher."

"Don't bother," Professor Snape said. He stood in the doorway behind Ron, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Quirrell.

"What happened?" McGonagall demanded.

"It was my fault, Professor," Hermione said humbly as she stood up. "I was trying to capture the troll by myself"

"That's not true," Malcolm said suddenly. "It's my fault. I lied to Hermione. She found out and ran away, right into the troll. I had to run after her."

All three Professors turned to look at Ron.

"All I did was save them from the troll. I don't even know what they were doing in the girls' bathroom."

McGonagall turned to Malcolm. "Young man . . ."

"It is my fault." Malcolm began to cry. "I never told her I didn't like her. Even when I gave her the cookies my mom made. And then she found out and I feel terrible. I tried apologizing and being honest and everything but I keep feeling worse."

"Young man," McGonagall said with more force as she leaned down and put a hand on his forehead. "Of course you feel terrible. You're burning with fever. We'll take you to Madam Pomfrey at once."

Professor Quirrell looked at Hermione as McGonagall helped Malcolm to his feet. "D-Did he really follow y-you in here to t-tell you that he d-didn't like you?"

"He's American," Hermione explained. "I think he was trying to be nice."

_And that was it. I didn't have a bad conscience at all. Madam Pomfrey even said that as far as she could tell I didn't have any kind of conscience. It turns out the bad feeling, the dry mouth, the tasteless food, all of it was some bug I picked up. It should be gone in twenty-four hours._

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked.

"I can taste things now," Malcolm admitted as he lay in the bed.

"You scared us," Ron admitted. "Especially when you suddenly went white."

"And you're not my boyfriend anymore," Hermione told Malcolm.

"Just friends, now," Ron clarified. And all three friends smiled.


	12. Crossing The Pond

A/N: It is now three days before Christmas, 2004 and I have three announcements. The most important one is that last week, in Thailand, the Scottish team took the World Championship Title by winning their Final Match in Elephant Polo. Truly a great moment for that Celtic Nation.

Slightly less important is JK Rowling's announcement that she has finished writing book six. By the time you read this, the publishers may already have announced a release date.

The least important of these announcements has to do with this story. I suddenly realized that I had the story completely wrong and spent all night rewriting the last nine chapters. Malcolm would never have met Ron first. They would never have introduced him to the floo network just like that. Being new to the world of magic, Malcolm would have gone to England by ordinary means. Naturally, the school administrators would have made sure that someone met him at the airport. I sincerely regret any inconvenience this may cause you, the readers, but I felt I should write the story properly.

_That's rubbish and even I know it. He planned on doing this from the beginning. But now he's got me curious as to who I'm going to meet._

Chapter Twelve: Crossing The Pond.

"Malcolm," Lois yelled. "Hurry up or you'll be late.

"I'm coming," Malcolm yelled as he closed his suitcase.

"This is great," Reese said. "Now I have my own room."

"Hey," Dewey yelled. "This is my room, too."

"Not for long, you little jerk. If they can get rid of Malcolm, they can get rid of you, too."

"They're not getting rid of me, Reese," Malcolm told him. "I'm going to an exclusive school overseas where I can develop my skills."

"Yeah, and Francis is the President of the United States."

"Francis was elected President?" Dewey asked. "No one tells me anything."

"Reese, you don't even know who the President is."

"Yes, I do?"

"Who is he?"

"That guy on television. I don't have to remember his name."

_For Reese, that's pretty close._

"I've got to go. I have a plane to catch."

Malcolm grabbed his suitcase and walked out of the bedroom.

"Did you say goodbye to your brothers?" Lois asked.

"REESE, DEWEY, GOODBYE. Yeah, Mom."

"Good, now get in the car."

* * *

Malcolm looked out the window as they drove to the airport. Hal looked in his rearview mirror and saw the frown on his face. "What's the matter, Malcolm? I thought you'd be excited."

"I guess. I've never been away from home before. What happens if I don't like it or something?"

"Well," Hal said, pausing. "Lois, do you want to field this one."

Lois scowled at Hal then turned back to look at Malcolm. "You'll have a great time, honey. You're going to learn all sorts of new things, and make new friends. By this time next month you won't want to come home."

"Like Francis?"

"No, not like Francis." Lois took a deep breath. "Malcolm, our agreement was that you have to go. What if it turns out to be great? Then you'll feel like a jerk for talking us into not sending you. And nobody said you have to stay . If it's that bad you can come home, but you have to give it a try. Can you live with that?"

Malcolm nodded.

"Promise me you'll give this school a chance, Malcolm. Don't complain just because you feel like it."

"I promise, Mom."

"I mean it, Malcolm. These people are going out of the way to help you. They even have that Mister Granger meeting you at the airport. He's going to help you get you school supplies and everything when he takes his daughter to that Magic Mall or whatever it is."

"It's called Diagon Alley."

"And you be nice to them, too. That little girl could be a good friend to have."

"But what if she's like the Krelboynes? Mom, I hated that class."

"And you learned a lot there, too. Don't forget that."

"Yeah, Mom."

"Malcolm." Lois made sure she had his attention. "We're doing this because we love you. You have a gift, and you have to learn to use it properly. What kind of mother would I be if I let you do anything you wanted regardless of how dangerous it was, or even worse, made you do only those things I wanted you to do? You're like a bird, Malcolm, and I don't like it either, but it's time to push you out of the nest so you can learn to fly."

_It's weird but I actually feel better._

"I promise, Mom. I'll learn to fly."

Lois returned her son's smile. "Get ready. You have a long flight ahead of you."

* * *

"Do you have your ticket?" Lois asked.

"Yeah." Malcolm answered.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You need this."

"What is it?"

"Your passport."

"Thanks, Mom." Malcolm looked at the booklet he was given. "Mom, this is a British passport?"

"That's right. You were born there."

Malcolm swallowed. "It's all real?"

Lois gave him a hug. "Don't think of this as leaving, Malcolm. Think about it this way. You're going home. It will make you feel better."

"I'll miss you, Mom. And could you tell Dad?"

"You could tell him yourself if he hurries up and parks that car."

Malcolm snorted and said his last goodbye.

"MOM, MALCOLM," a voice called out.

"FRANCIS!"

Lois turned around. "Francis, You're supposed to be working at that summer camp.

"Those kids can cook their own meals for the last couple of days. I want to say goodbye to Malcolm before you send him away, too."

"Francis, this is great. I thought I wouldn't get to see you."

"You almost didn't, sport. Are you Okay?"

"Nervous. All of this is new for me."

"Make the best of it, Malcolm. If you play your cards right, you can get thrown out and be home by Christmas."

"FRANCIS?" Lois yelled.

"He's kidding, Mom. I promised I'd give it a try." Malcolm turned to Francis. "Mom already promised that I could come home if I didn't like it."

Francis arched an eyebrow. "So Mom, you're really not kicking him out."

"Um, Francis," Malcolm said. "I don't know if Mom and Dad told you . . ." He showed his brother the passport.

"They finally told you? I guess you're old enough to know."

"Francis? You knew?"

"I was there when they brought you to the house. Of course I knew."

"You never said anything?"

Lois looked surprised. "Francis? You never said anything?"

Francis looked embarrassed about being caught doing something decent. "He's my brother. That's all he needed to know."

Lois put her hand on his arm. "Thank you. But you're still going back to that Military School."

Francis grabbed Malcolm's hand. "Goodbye, squirt. I guess I don't get any time off for good behavior."

"Malcolm," Lois prompted. "It's last call for your flight."

Malcolm paused. "It really is goodbye."

"Get going," Lois insisted. She turned him around and pushed him toward the gate so he wouldn't see her cry. As Malcolm left, Francis hesitated, then put his arm around his mother to console her.

* * *

Malcolm was wide-eyed when he walked off the plane with the stewardess.

_She's a Flight Attendant. They don't like being called Stewardesses anymore._

"That's him. Mum," a girl called out in a bossy voice. "I'm sure of it."

Malcolm looked over to see a girl his age with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. "Over here." the girl called, while her mother said, "Now, Hermione."

"You're him, aren't you," Hermione said.

"Who?"

"Malcolm. Of course you are. It's right there on you're name tag. You have to wear that I suppose."

_I wonder if it's too early to check on return flights._

"I'm Reese. I traded name tags with this other kid."

The flight attendant laughed. "This is Malcolm. Don't let him tease you. He was a model passenger."

_Yeah, right. I stayed up all night last night so I could sleep on the Red Eye. Who wants to arrive someplace at Nine in the morning and be dead tired._

"He was a regular sleepy head," the attendant assured Hermione.

"That was smart," Hermione said to Malcolm. "I'll wager you stayed up all night to make sure you could sleep. I'd hate being tired at nine in the morning."

"Uh, yeah."

"We're ready, Malcolm," Mrs. Granger said. "Let's get your trunk and we'll settle you in. We have a busy day tomorrow."

"Mum, if Malcolm's rested, we could finish our shopping today?" She turned to Malcolm. "Mum worked it out so we have most of your supplies," then she added conspiratorially, "but there were some things we couldn't get for you." Malcolm nodded as he showed the customs officer his passport. "You have a British passport? That is curious. I didn't think the school accepted Americans. Do you live there or where you just visiting? You're not very talkative, you know."

"You haven't given me a chance to say anything," Malcolm said testily. "Where's your mom?"

"Getting your trunk." Hermione answered. "Look, I'm sorry for how I'm acting but you don't know what it's like. I haven't had anyone to talk to about this." She paused as Malcolm glared at her. "I guess you do know." Malcolm nodded. Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "Do you want to see Diagon Alley today? I know I can talk my mum into it."

_Hermione would fit perfectly in the Krelboyne class. She has everything. She's smart. She's eager to show off. And she never thinks about anyone else. On the other hand, everyone's been talking about magic, but . . ._

Malcolm smiled. "Okay."

Hermione waited for her mother to return with Malcolm's suitcase. "Mum, Malcolm said yes. So we can get it out of the way."

"Is that the truth, Malcolm."

"Yeah, sure."

"Should I stop by the house so you can change, or go directly downtown?"

* * *

"Mum, this is the wrong way."

Hermione was exasperated. First, they had to go back home, then she had to wait for Malcolm to change. Now they were taking the wrong road to Charring Cross. She also made sure that Malcolm and her mother knew she was upset.

"Hermione," her mother said. "Diagon Alley isn't going to disappear, and we still have plenty of time. I thought I'd drive by some of the sights for Malcolm's sake. This way he can decide where he wants to go tomorrow." She added in that tone which said do this or else, "Why don't you point things out to Malcolm?"

"There's a chemist," Hermione said testily.

"No it isn't," Malcolm replied. "It's a drug store."

"We call it a chemist," Hermione said pointedly.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said. "Malcolm is a guest in our country."

"He's as British as we are, Mum. It's only he talks funny." She took a deep breath and then talked to Malcolm in a condescending voice. "This is Trafalgar Square. It's named in honour of Lord Nelson."

"Then why don't they call it Nelson Square?"

"Because," Hermione said with polite annoyance, "Lord Nelson won a great Naval battle against the combined fleets of the French and the Spanish at," she looked snidely at Malcolm, "guess where?"

"Where?" Malcolm asked ingenuously.

"Trafalgar, of course." Hermione screamed..

"Hermione," Her mother cautioned. "Don't take that attitude with Malcolm."

"I can't help it, Mum. I asked him which naval battle Trafalgar Square was named after and he couldn't figure it out."

"Not everyone is as smart as you are, Dear." It was obvious that Mrs. Granger had used the line many times before.

"But it's so frustrating. I can recite Pi to twenty places off the top of my head and this boy can't even put two and two together."

"Look," Malcolm said. "It's Big Ben."

Mrs. Granger was mildly impressed. "I see you studied up on London, before you came here, Malcolm."

"They always show pictures of it. It looks bigger in real life."

"It is interesting to note," Hermione pointed out. "Big Ben is actually the name they gave to the largest bell in the clock tower. They named it after Sir Benjamin Hall who was the chief commissioner of works when the clock was built."

"That's marvelous, Hermione. I never knew that. Did you, Malcolm?"

"Uh, yeah. I think I read it somewhere."

"Really?" Hermione said in mock surprise.

"Really. I think it was in one of those trivia books you buy for the bathroom."

"Mum, are we almost to Charring Cross yet." Hermione decided it was best to end the conversation.

"Maybe you should wait until tomorrow," Mrs. Granger said and turned the car around.

* * *

Hermione had successfully avoided Malcolm until dinner but now she had to join him at the table.

"How's my little precious," Mr. Granger said to his daughter.

"I'm fine, Dad," Hermione answered. "Where's Malcolm?"

"The guest room. Your mother said he was taking a nap. Jet lag, I assume. Could you run upstairs and get him?"

"Could we leave him there?"

Mr. Granger laughed. "Don't you like our guest."

"Dad, I'm not saying he's stupid or anything, but if he isn't standing still, he'll lose his train of thought."

"Now dear, everyone can't be as smart as you. Why don't you run up and fetch him."

"He'd probably feel more at home if you yelled for him," Hermione gruffly replied.

"He's not what she expected," Mum said to Dad, stating the obvious.

"Then let's make him feel at home. MALCOLM, DINNER."

Hermione looked at her father in surprise, but his grin was too much to keep her in a bad mood. Then Malcolm came running down the stairs, and she actually smiled.

_She's laughing at me. I know it._

"Did you have a good nap, Malcolm." Mr. Granger asked as he showed Malcolm to his seat.

"I was kinda tired, but that bedroom's weird. Everything's pink."

"My sister uses it when she comes to visit. I think you're the first boy to use that room. Peas?"

Malcolm looked surprised. "You serve the food?"

Mr. Granger looked at Malcolm in surprise. "How does your family do it?"

"Mom puts the stuff on the table and calls us, then stands back."

Mr. Granger smiled. "How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Three brothers, but Francis has to work at a summer camp, and then he has to go back to military school, so we hardly ever see him."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"And it's really unfair. It's not like it was even our car." Malcolm paused, not noticing everyone staring at him. "I guess I'm just not used to things here. Sure, I'll have some peas."

"Ah, yes," came the reply.

_This is the strangest meal I've ever had. Everyone is actually polite and they ask for things. I asked for another bread roll and you know what they said? "Do you want the butter as well?" If it were Reese, he'd grab the last one and tell me "too bad"._

"That was good," Malcolm said as he finished.

"You had a healthy appetite, Malcolm," Mr. Granger told him. "Hermione, why don't you show Malcolm the neighborhood while we clean up?"

_I like this guy. He gives orders more politely than anyone I know of. But I do have one problem with Hermione showing me around. I have to go with her._

"That sounds like fun, Mr. G," Malcolm chirped.

"I'd love to, Dad." Hermione gave a look of complete resignation as Malcolm followed her out of the house."

"I like your house," Malcolm said politely. "It's a nice color."

"White is a lovely color," Hermione agreed. "And this is the street."

"I guessed."

Hermione began walking and Malcolm followed her. She would point out something now and then and Malcolm would say it was nice and make some bland comment.

_I know. She isn't enjoying this, but I am. If she wants to boss me around, she's going to have to work at it._

Then she paused and said, "Let's not go this way."

Malcolm looked at the large building ahead of them. "Is that your school?"

"My old school."

"Those girls looking at us. Are they your friends?"

"No," Hermione said too quickly.

"Well, they're walking this way." Malcolm smiled as Hermione became distinctly uncomfortable.

_I know what's going on. Those aren't her friends. They're her classmates. Hermione doesn't have any real friends. She's too smart for them to deal with. Any friends she has are probably this country's version of the Krelboynes. A bunch of losers._ Malcolm paused. _Just like my friends. Dang, it's those stupid morals Dad warned me about._

Malcolm eyed the approaching girls carefully. They were obviously coming toward him and Hermione, and Hermione couldn't walk away without extreme embarrassment.

_At least I've got a plan. It's really Francis' plan, but I've seen it work._

"Hermione, I need to tell you something before your friends get here." Malcolm took her hand as he said, "Two."

"What are you talking about." Hermione was clearly surprised by Malcolm's change of tone. "What do you mean by Two.

"Pi. The twenty-first place after the decimal.

Hermione looked at Malcolm in surprise, forgetting about the girls for a second, and forgetting that Malcolm was holding her hand. All she could think about was that Malcolm had spent all day lying to her. The stupid moron she had been stuck with was at least as smart as she was.

"Hermione," a girl called out as she walked up, a big smile on her face. "We saw the two of you walking." Then she asked in a tell me everything voice, "Who is he?"

Hermione suddenly remembered the girls, and the fact that Malcolm was still holding her hand and smiling at her.

"I know I've never seen him before." another girl said, eyeing Malcolm curiously.

"Your boyfriend's cute," a third girl added.

"This is Malcolm," Hermione said as she began to blush, which only made her former classmates more eager to learn about her new boyfriend. " He's from the States. We're going to school together."

"How long have you known him?" "You never talked about him before?" "Does that mean he's not staying?"

* * *

As they walked back to the house, Hermione couldn't help herself. "Thank you, Malcolm. I don't know how you did it but you managed to make them interested in talking to me."

"It was easy. All they needed was something to talk to you about."

Hermione began to laugh. "I don't believe I fell for it."

"Fell for what?"

"Trafalgar Square. I should have known you were having me on."

They were both laughing as they walked up the path to the house. That fact caused Mrs. Granger to shake her head. She would never understand children. Not even her own.


	13. Diagon Alley

A/N: As an explanation to those who are confused by what happened in the last chapter, here is the simple explanation. I couldn't decide who Malcolm should meet first: Ron or Hermione. So I started writing it both ways. Having written it both way, I decided to post it both ways. My inspiration for this was the Bowling episode in MITM's second season.

The problem with writing this story, as opposed to the other Malcolm stories is that I have to follow canon. In the other stories, all I had to do was acknowledge that canon existed. Certain things have to happen and in a certain order. All that leaves me in some cases is to copy the plot with a few snide comments thrown in. This way, once I get back to Halloween, I have to make sure the rest of the story compliments both versions of the past without contradicting either of them. I did it to challenge myself. And it seemed like a fun idea at the time. I'm still finding things in the later chapters that I have to change. I hope that you enjoy the results.

Chapter Thirteen: Diagon Alley

"Do you know what happened?" Mrs. Granger asked as she glanced in the kitchen. Hermione was laughing as Malcolm regaled her with stories of his brothers. "Yesterday they wouldn't say two words to each other without making some remark."

"Except for dinner," Mr. Granger answered. "They didn't say two words to each other, period." He traded grins with his wife. "Who knows what goes on in the minds of children their age. We should only hope that it lasts."

"He was in Hermione's room last night until almost midnight. They were going over their school books together. Malcolm is smarter than he lets on." They shared knowing looks. "I called his parents last night to let them know he was fine. His father answered and I asked him."

"And he said?"

"He has an IQ of 165. What do you think about that?"

"Don't tell Hermione. If she finds out . . ."

Mrs. Granger nodded toward the kitchen. "She knows. Dear, what if the entire school is like that?"

"Then we will never go to parents night." Mr. Granger sighed. "It's time to risk my sanity again." He walked into the kitchen. "And how are the two of you doing?"

"Dad, Malcolm was telling me wild stories about his brothers."

"Those stories are true," Malcolm protested.

"As smart as you are, do you honestly expect me to believe that you have a brother that stupid? It isn't possible."

"It is if I'm adopted," Malcolm said with a smirk.

_I know it's stupid to tell her, but the timing was too good._

Hermione started at the remark and realized Malcolm was serious. "Of course. That explains why you have a British passport."

Malcolm nodded. "I was sent to live with my uncle, in the United States, and he adopted me because he thought it would be better for me."

"That was a kind gesture," Mr. Granger said. "It shows he really cares for you, Malcolm."

"I don't know," Malcolm said. "If he really cared, he would have put Reese up for adoption."

Mr. Granger noticed Hermione was getting ready to ask a question, and knew his daughter well enough to know what the question was. He decided to change the subject.

"Hermione, Malcolm, did you want to go to Diagon Alley?"

* * *

"Malcolm," Hermione asked as they drove toward London. "May I ask a personal question?"

"Hermione," her father interrupted, "I don't think it's appropriate."

_He's right, but I brought it on myself, just for a quick laugh._

"Mr. Granger, It's an honest question. But I'll refuse to answer if you'll honestly admit that you're not curious."

"You have me in a corner, Malcolm. But I will listen to your answer if you truly have no objection."

"I haven't even asked my question yet," Hermione said.

"You want to know what happened to my parents." Hermione nodded and Malcolm continued. "First off, I only found all this out a month ago, and there isn't much to tell." Malcolm smiled wryly as he knew what Hermione's reaction would be. "My parents could do magic . . ."

Hermione gasped. "Your mother was a witch?"

"And my father was a wizard," Malcolm noted. "And this is the sad part. A bad wizard was going around killing people, and . . . He blew up our house. My parents died and they found me in the rubble. And I already told you the rest."

"I've read about those times," Hermione said with surprising sympathy. "A lot of wizards and witches died, or just disappeared."

"You know what's weird," Malcolm said. "I asked how many people were attacked after my parents died. The guy wouldn't clarify what he said but he told me that only one other couple was attacked, but that was different. He did say that his son lived too."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

"Who?"

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived. When the evil wizard, He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named, attacked that other boy, something happened and he was destroyed by his own spell."

"I never heard about that?" Malcolm nodded. "I guess that was different."

"He's supposed to be coming to Hogwarts," Hermione said. "His name is . . ."

"Hermione," Mr. Granger said. "I think Malcolm has answered your question. Why don't we talk about happier things."

"I hope he's as nice as you," Hermione said in closing.

* * *

Hermione had to show off what she knew. After her father parked the car she had Malcolm stand with her on the street corner. It took him five minutes to figure it out.

"Are they ignoring it, or is it invisible to them?"

"Dad says it looks like a blank wall to him. They don't even know it's there."

"Cool. Can you see it now, Mr. Granger?"

"No, but I know it's there. I'll see it as we walk up to the door."

They crossed Charring Cross Road and walked through the door into the Leaky Cauldron. "Whoa," Malcolm said moments later as he looked over the crowd. He had seen one of the pictures on the wall and the man in it was moving. The man, a Cavalier, noticed him watching and tipped his hat.

"Muggles," a man in purple robes and a matching hat said. "They're so much fun to watch."

"Muggle twins?" the man across from him said in surprise. "That's rare."

"Malcolm," Hermione said, grinning at the remark about being twins, "You're staring. Come on."

"I bet you stared," Malcolm said as he followed her.

"Definitely, but I came during the week, when it wasn't crowded."

Hermione's father led the way through the Leaky Cauldron and out the back door. "Hermione, it's time for you to show off, again."

Hermione grinned and pulled out her wand. She tapped it against the wall and it slid aside to reveal Diagon Alley. She turned to Malcolm. "Shall we go?"

Malcolm was full of questions. "What's Quidditch? They sell Quidditch supplies there."

"Some kind of sport."

"Those are owls?"

"That's how wizards and witches send their mail. Isn't that how you got your letter?"

"No. Mine was hand delivered. I guess it was too far for the owls. What's Gringotts?"

"The Bank. That's where we're headed." Hermione told him. "You did bring money?"

"I'm supposed to have an account at the bank."

"How did you manage that?"

Malcolm paused.

"I think my parents arranged it."

"How did they manage that?" Hermione paused than frowned. "Sorry. I thought you were talking about your American parents."

"I know," Malcolm said with a friendly grin. "Anyway, this guy Hagrid said they would have the key to my safe."

Hermione was impressed. "Is Hagrid the family accountant? Are you rich? You must be?"

"I'm not rich. Hagrid was the guy who delivered my letter. He works at Hogwarts. I guess he had something to do with it. My parents talked with him for a long time."

"And the safe?"

Malcolm shrugged his shoulder. "Here's the bank. Let's find out."

Hermione readily agreed but gave him a warning. "Don't be surprised by what you see. The bank is run by Goblins."

Malcolm looked surprised and began walking faster. He went through the door and stopped. Tables were all over the place with piles of gold coins and small ugly men, the Goblins, counting them. Wizards and witches were walking up to them then going through another door. Malcolm pointed them out. "I think everyone has a safe."

"Can I see your safe, when you go?"

"Sure."

Mr. Granger took charge and steered the two children to one of the counters. "This is Malcolm. He needs to get money from his safe." He smiled as Malcolm and Hermione stared at him. "I talked to your mother, Malcolm. She explained everything to me."

"Does Malcolm have his key?" The Goblin asked from his high desk.

"Hagrid left it here for me," Malcolm said, as the Goblin simply waited. He took out his passport and handed it up. The goblin looked at it and nodded, then handed it back. He called out to another Goblin and told him he needed the key that Hagrid left. The other Goblin scurried off and returned with a key.

"This is the key to Vault 713," the Goblin said. "I need the other key."

The other goblin ran off and returned with another key, and a rolled parchment. The Goblin read the parchment, then looked at the humans standing below his desk. "This is a set withdrawal. I will return shortly."

After a few minutes, the goblin with the key returned with a small pouch. He put the key in a drawer and closed it, then read from the parchment and looked up. "Your name is Granger? You have already purchased some of the boy's school supplies?"

"Yes, when I brought my daughter to buy her things. I have the receipts"

"The amount was Two Galleons, Eight Sickles and Five knuts."

"Yes," Mr. Granger said in amazement, as the goblin reached into the bag and pulled out the exact amount. He handed it to the man, then gave him another handful of coins. "That will cover the cost of his robes and his wand."

"Excuse me," Malcolm said as the goblin sat the pouch on his desk. "Don't I get a say in this? It's supposed to be my money."

The goblin looked with amusement at the parchment he was still holding. "According to this, your mother says no. You would only spend it on junk." The goblin looked highly amused. "She did agree to let you have this." He handed Malcolm two sickles.

Malcolm looked at the two small silver coins in his hand, and the large bulge of gold coins in Mr. Granger's pocket, and grimaced. From the corner of his eye he saw the goblin laughing at him. He shoved the coins in his pocket. "You said it was a set withdrawal. What does that mean?"

The goblin kept his grin. "It means we don't take you down to your parents' vault so you can help yourself. We only give you what they tell us in advance to give you." He showed Malcolm the piece of parchment.

_Yeah. That's Mom's signature. I like her attitude though. She can't spend it. Why should I?_

"Can I have my key, at least?"

"Yes. When you are seventeen."

"Excuse me," Hermione asked. "Do you always keep the keys to the safes?"

"Only when we are asked to, or when a safe has been emptied." The Goblin looked at Malcolm. "I'll see you in six years."

"Yeah, Thanks for nothing," Malcolm said as he walked away.

"Malcolm, Shall we get your robes?"

_Great. I'm told I can't have any money, and now I have to shop for school clothes. An hour ago I was thinking that magic was wonderful._

* * *

Malcolm spent a wonderful hour at Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, waiting his turn then being measured and fitted. Hermione was as annoyed as he was. She had to stand around and wait for him despite repeated request to go to the book store. Malcolm noticed the other kids there also looked as happy as he was. Finally he was told he could leave, and the three left to visit Ollivander's Wand Shop. This was what Malcolm had been waiting for, ever since last night when Hermione showed him her wand and the spells she had been practicing.

Malcolm was daunted when he first saw the shop. It looked old and run down . . .

_It probably hasn't been cleaned since 362 BC._

. . . but Hermione dragged hin inside before he could make a comment. Inside was musty with rows and rows of long thin boxes all through the place, and a single chair. Malcolm heard a small bell ring as they entered, and then they waited until an old man suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Good Afternoon." He looked at Hermione and smiled. "Back again already, Miss Granger. Nothing happened to your wand, I hope. It was such a nice one, Oak, twelve inches with a Dragon Heartstring at its core."

Hermione actually giggled and pulled her wand out to show him. "We came so Malcolm could get his wand. He's going to Hogwarts too."

"The wand chooses the wizard, young man." Ollivander looked at Malcolm with a knowing eye. "Hermione said your name is Malcolm. Is that the name your parents gave you when you were adopted?"

Malcolm's surprise was reflected in Hermione's face, and Mr. Granger's as well. "Uh, yeah. How did you know about that?"

"Because I know who you are, Master Malcolm. You have your mother's eyes." Ollivander sighed. "It seems like only yesterday she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, made of willow. A nice swishy wand, excellent for charm work."

"You knew my mother?" Malcolm was amazed, and nervous as Ollivander watched him with his silver eyes.

"Indeed I did. Now your father was different. His wand was Mahogany, more powerful, and good for transfiguration."

"Malcolm," Hermione whispered, "your parents really were a wizard and a witch?"

"Did he tell you?" Ollivander asked, but he obviously was not surprised.

Hermione and Malcolm nodded.

"Do you know how your parents died, Malcolm?"

"Y-yeah, Hagrid told me. You-Know-Who killed them. I was told he killed a lot of people."

"He did," Ollivander said sadly. "But he met his downfall when he faced one particular family."

"You're talking about the Boy-Who-Lived," Hermione said. "I told Malcolm all about him."

"Yes, I am," Mr. Ollivander replied. "The interesting thing is that He-Who-Must -Not-Be-Named suffered his defeat, and the young child he faced suffered only a scar." At this he moved his hand and pushed aside the thatch of hair that covered one side of Malcolm's forehead, and revealed a scar shaped like a lightning bolt.

Hermione sat down in the chair. "You? You're the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I am? I only found out I was adopted when I got my letter," Malcolm admitted. "And no one told me I was anyone special. I thought I just had a lucky escape."

Ollivander cleared his throat. "You did. A very lucky escape. But these are happier times, I should point out. And Malcolm needs his first wand." He went to fetch a box and handed it to Malcolm as he described it. "Well? Give it a wave."

Malcolm waved the wand and watched in amazement as sparks fizzled out of the tip.

"No, that won't do." Ollivander chose another box and handed the wand to Malcolm who waved it with a sense of expectation. "I'm afraid not. Here, try this one."

The pile of wands slowly grew until at one point when Hermione asked, "Dad can I wait for you at the book store?"

"Can I go, too?" Malcolm asked as both Mr. Granger and Mr. Ollivander chuckled.

"I have a thought," Mr. Ollivander said, and went into the back and returned with another box, which he was wiping the dust off. "Try this one. Holly and Phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple."

Malcolm took the wand and gasped. It felt different. He gave it a wave and was surprised when a stream of Scarlet and Gold stars flew from the tip of the wand. "That was great."

Ollivander nodded solemnly. "I was afraid that might be the case."

_Afraid? Did he just say Afraid?_

"What's wrong with this wand?"

"Nothing, Malcolm. In truth, the fact that this wand chose you is proof that you are destined to become a powerful wizard."

"How do you know that?"

"I remember every wand I have ever sold, young man. And every wand I have ever made. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave only one other, and its brother wand is the one that gave you that scar. The man who has that wand did great things with it. They were terrible, but they WERE great."

_This guy is a regular killjoy. Now I'm going to be scared to ever use this._

Mr. Granger paid for the wand and, sensing the mood of the children, quickly ushered them out of the shop.

"Malcolm, I was actually scared in there," Hermione admitted.

"YOU were scared? I wanted to leave that wand behind."

"Malcolm, Hermione, I admit Mr. Ollivander was a bit spooky, but he was talking about history. We need a change of subject. I think I saw an Ice Cream Parlor near here."

_Yeah. That changed my mood. I want a chocolate sundae with raspberries and nuts._

Mr. Granger sighed with relief as the two frowns in front of him became instant smiles, and stayed that way.

"Mr. Granger, was there any money left after you paid for everything?"

"I'm afraid not, Malcolm. The, um, man at the bank gave me the exact amount I needed."

_Dang._

Mr. Granger noticed the matching half frowns on their faces. "Your mother was right Hermione. The two of you do act alike. You could be twins."

Hermione and Malcolm stared at each other.

_I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. It is not funny._

"Dad, we are not alike. We are as different as night and day."

"I believe you, honey."

"But we are."

Malcolm smirked. "I guess that's why we're fraternal twins."

Hermione glared at him. "Don't you start."

"Ok, Sis."

"MALCOLM? Dad, he's doing that deliberately."

"I know, Honey." Mr. Granger was smirking. "Malcolm, don't tease your sister."

Hermione stopped and stared at her father's comment. Then a smile formed on her lips. "Dad's right, Malcolm. It's my job to tease you."

_Okay, so it is funny._


	14. The Hogwarts Express

Chapter Fourteen: The Hogwarts Express

Hermione and Malcolm looked at their tickets. It was clearly up to them because Hermione's parents had no clue as to how to find Platform Nine and 3/4.

"There must be a simple trick to it," Hermione said. "Otherwise, everyone would know where it is."

"It is simple," Malcolm explained. "If you know how to think like a wizard." He looked at Hermione. "Or a witch." When she gave him a look, he added, "You know what I mean."

_It's great. I can call her that and get away with it._

"Yes, I do," Hermione said frostily.

"The twins are starting again," someone said from behind them.

"Mum," Hermione said with annoyance. "We are not starting. He is."

"I told you," Mrs. Granger said.

"We should ask someone," Hermione said with authority.

"Like who?" Malcolm asked unhelpfully.

"Like whom," Hermione said courteously. "Like someone who would be in a position to know."

"And they were doing so well," Mr. Granger commented.

Hermione and Malcolm paused to smirk at each other. Malcolm's eyes flashed as an older boy walked by, pushing a cart. Hermione followed his gaze to see a group of redheads, all pushing carts. "Brilliant," Hermione said. "That one boy has an owl. It can only mean one thing."

"He has a permit to keep wildlife," Malcolm said firmly.

As Mr. And Mrs. Granger prepared for another round of name calling, Hermione turned to Malcolm. "Exactly, and if we follow him we can find out where the wild things are."

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "I always regretted not having more children. Now I'm regretting I didn't have less."

"Hermione," Malcolm said as he pointed to the boy he had spotted. The boy was walking directly toward a pillar, and then disappeared. The second boy was following his brother. "They're getting away."

The two children pushed their carts quickly as the two adults tried to follow. As they came close, there was only one boy with a cart left. "Excuse me," Hermione called, and the boy, his mother and his sister all looked up.

"Yes, dears," the woman said.

"Hi, I'm Malcolm and this is Hermione. We're trying to get to the Hogwarts Express," Malcolm said breathlessly.

"And you want to know how to get to the Platform?" The woman smiled at them. "The two of you must be first years. This is Ron's first year too. And are these your parents?" The woman held out her hand. "Nice to meet you. Molly Weasley."

The Grangers introduced themselves.

"You must be proud of your twins. Both going to school. My twins have already gone through. They're both boys."

Hermione interrupted. "But we're not . . ."

" . . . both boys," Malcolm finished with a smirk as Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes and whispered something to Mrs. Weasley, who laughed.

"Then why do you talk funny," the girl asked Malcolm.

"Now, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said.

"He does it to show off," Hermione answered. "Personally, I don't think he sounds American at all."

"It isn't very good," Ginny admitted.

_Okay, one point for me for running with the twins idea. One point to Hermione for mocking the way I talk._

"You will have to excuse them," Mr. Granger said suddenly. "They've been so excited about the school. Now, Malcolm, if you are not going to talk properly, don't say anything at all. And Hermione. Don't tease your brother."

"But, Dad . . ."

Hermione stopped as she saw her father smirking at her.

"Ron," Molly Weasley said, "Show them how it's done."

Ron nodded and pushed his cart toward the secret entrance, and disappeared as his brothers had done.

"Now which one of you first?" Mrs. Weasley asked, then grinned. "It's a good thing you are a boy and a girl. I swear you look so much alike. Malcolm, why don't you let your sister go first?"

"Sure," Malcolm said.

"We don't look alike," Hermione said in surprise.

"They definitely act alike," Mrs. Granger said.

"MOM?"

"Hermione. Train. NOW."

Hermione huffed, then pushed her cart to the hidden platform.

Malcolm smirked at Mrs. Weasley. "You know, don't you?"

"Your mother let me in on the joke. And Malcolm, you're accent IS terrible."

"I'll practice on it. Thanks for helping us. Goddbye Mr. G, Mrs. G."

_Hogwarts Express. Here I come._

* * *

Malcolm and Hermione managed to get a compartment by themselves, and Hermione couldn't stop grinning.

"Malcolm, that was the most fun I've ever had. I was already on the platform before I figured out that Mrs. Weasley knew the truth, although I have no idea how."

"Your mom tipped her off while you were complaining about my accent." He grinned. "I guess we were getting on their nerves."

"But it was so much fun. I've never done anything like that before."

"You never goofed on people?"

"Goofed? Do you mean deliberately lying to try and embarrass someone? No. Of course not. I'm not that type of person." Hermione widened her grin. "At least I wasn't, before I met you, dear brother."

Malcolm paused. "That kid, Ron."

"What about him?"

"Did you tell him the truth?"

"I was going to," Hermione admitted. "But I didn't want to tell him I lied. I suppose I should have."

"He told his brothers. When they helped us find this compartment, one of them wished me and my sister the best of luck."

They were both laughing when the door from the corridor opened. It was Ron Weasley, and he looked at them nervously. "Um, could I join you? Everywhere else is full."

"We'd be delighted," Hermione said politely.

"Thanks," Ron said gratefully and pulled his trunk in. They helped him store it and Ron sat down next to Malcolm."

The compartment opened again, and twin boys stuck their heads in. "Hi," one of the twins said, "We're Fred and George and this is our brother, Ron. Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves before. Ron, do you want to join us? Lee Jordan brought a Tarantula with him. He's going to let us hold it."

Ron looked up nervously. "That's all right. I'll stay here."

"Right then. We're off."

"Never liked spiders," Ron said.

"Most of them are harmless," Hermione assured him.

"Most," Ron agreed, then changed the subject. "So, both of you are muggle-born?"

Hermione answered, "No," and Malcolm shook his head. "We are?" And Malcolm nodded.

"No, you are?" Ron asked.

Malcolm pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote quickly, then handed Hermione a note. Hermione read it and nodded. "Sorry," she apologized, "I'm still nervous. My parents are muggles. Both of them. Are you parents wizards?"

"Yeah," Ron said carefully, confused by what was going on. Hermione and Malcolm kept giving each other strange looks. "Maybe I should find someplace else to sit. You two look like you need to talk."

"He's right," Hermione said to Malcolm. "Everyone will know sooner or later. Ronald will be a perfect test subject."

"It's been nice talking to you," Ron said as he stood up.

Malcolm and Hermione ignored him as Malcolm frowned. "Then they'll ask me about it. I don't remember anything."

_This is stupid. It's like the Krelboyne's all over again. Everyone will find out I'm special and I'll be stuck hanging out with losers again_.

"Hagrid knows," Hermione pointed out. "Do you think he kept it a secret?"

Ron paused with the door half open. The conversation was becoming interesting. "Hagrid's the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. How do you two know him?"

"He delivered my letter," Malcolm said.

"Personally?" Ron asked. "That is unusual. My letter came by owl."

"So did mine," Hermione said.

"Then why did they hand deliver your brother's letter."

"Malcolm, do you want to answer Ron?"

"Hermione isn't my sister," Malcolm admitted. "I said that to try and embarrass her. She and her mother met me at the airport."

Ron nodded and smiled. "And you talk funny because you ARE a Yank?"

_I think I hate this kid already._

"You're in trouble with your joke, by the way," Ron added. "I told Fred and George, and you didn't correct them. They pointed you out to their friends. By now half the train knows about you two."

"Why would they care?" Malcolm asked snidely.

Ron smirked as he revealed the joke. "You two are twins, and both of you can do magic, and both of you are muggle-born. Do you know how rare that is?"

Malcolm paused as he thought it through. _Okay. Nobody knows yet that I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. They won't ignore me for that reason. But they will want to talk to me because I'm a fraternal twin. Which I'm not. And only three people on this train know the truth._

"Ron, what will happen when everyone finds out the truth?"

"You'll become a laughingstock." Ron said with authority.

"Even though you spread that lie?"

"I only told Fred and George." Ron admitted.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "Once they find out the truth about you, Malcolm, I think they'll forget about it."

"That you're a Yank?" Ron asked, then smiled. "You talked to Fred, didn't you, Malcolm?"

"How can you tell?"

"That's my excuse," Ron said proudly. "I was obviously lying to them. And they should have known it."

"Hooray," Malcolm said cheerlessly. "That isn't what we're talking about."

"It is what we're talking about," Hermione pointed out. "What you mean to say is that it is not what we should be talking about."

"Maybe we shouldn't bother," Malcolm replied. "They'll think I'm lying, anyway."

"About what?" Ron asked.

Ron watched as Malcolm and Hermione began exchanging looks. It was obvious that something was up. "Look, I don't know what's going on but if you want to tell me something I'll promise to keep it a secret."

Hermione gave Malcolm a hard stare. "It's about the Boy-Who-Lived."

Ron nodded. "I heard he was supposed to be coming to Hogwarts this year. What about him." He paused. "The two of you know him?"

"Yes," both of them said.

"What's he like?"

"He's extremely obnoxious," Hermione answered.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Malcolm retorted, slapping the seat beside him for emphasis. A loud squeak was heard as Ron suddenly rushed towards Malcolm.

"You almost hit Scabbers," Ron yelled as he picked up his rat.

"Sorry," Malcolm said insincerely. "I didn't even know he was there."

"He doesn't make much noise," Ron admitted sadly. "He mostly sleeps. He's pathetic, really. Percy gave him to me."

"I am sorry I almost smashed your rat," Malcolm admitted.

_I think he would have liked it if I did._

"Ron," Hermione asked. "Could we get back to the subject."

"I guess," Ron said. "There's no reason to talk about Scabbers."

"Exactly," Hermione replied. "Malcolm and I have something to tell you, and it is important."

"About the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Exactly," Malcolm said in an almost perfect imitation of Hermione.

Ron paused. "Were you pretending to talk with an accent?"

Malcolm nodded.

"Then you two really are twins, and this Yank stuff was a joke?"

"No," Hermione said with a frown.

"Yes," Malcolm said with a smirk.

"Excuse me," a boy said from the doorway. "I've lost Trevor, my toad. Have you seen him?"

"Would you like a rat instead," Malcolm asked, pointing to Scabbers.

"No," Ron said angrily.

"I'm only joking," Malcolm complained. "You said he was pathetic."

"He's still mine," Ron insisted. "And you're talking in that stupid accent again."

"I've done accents," the boy at the door said to Malcolm, "but you should end every sentence with 'Eh.' That way everyone knows it's an accent."

"Um, Right," Malcolm said with an accent.

"He isn't very good," Ron said and introduced himself.

"Neville," the boy said, "Neville Longbottom."

"And these two are Malcolm and Hermione Granger," Ron said with resignation, adding in a whisper, "I picked the wrong compartment to sit in."

Neville laughed.. "You're the ones everyone is talking about. Are you really twins? And muggles to boot?"

Malcolm and Hermione looked at each other, and laughed.

"That's right," Malcolm said, remembering his accent.

"Not really," Hermione responded, then smirked. "I suppose we are."

"Nor exactly." Malcolm replied, and they both laughed again.

"Stop," Ron said. "You keep doing that. Either you are twins or you aren't."

"I suppose we should be completely honest," Hermione said with a smirk. "We aren't twins at all. Malcolm is adopted."

"Which explains why I'm two months older," Malcolm added with a smile.

"You're doing that stupid accent again," Neville pointed out.

"It's not an accent."

"But," Neville was clearly confused, "you aren't a Yank?"

Malcolm took a serious tone. "I was born over here, but I was sent to the States after my parents died." Then he brushed the hair from his forehead.

"Criminy," Ron said in surprise. "You have the scar. You're Harry . . ."

"My American parents changed my name when they adopted me."

Neville was still confused. "Then why does your sister talk like a normal person?"

"She doesn't," Malcolm said with a smirk. "SHE'S faking the accent."

"She's very good."

Neville couldn't keep a straight face after everyone gave him a look of surprise. He started laughing when Malcolm said, "Um, Neville . . ."

_That was good. After everything we said to him, he turned it back on us._

"Malcolm, why did they change your name?"

"It's because of my Uncle Harry. He's such a jerk. There was this family, the Feltons, they named their kid Harry. Then they met my uncle. The next day they changed the kid's name to Tom. Really, it's a true story."

"We believe you."

* * *

A/N: It's Christmas Eve and I'm in a rush. I'll see you again on Boxing Day. Have a Happy. 


	15. Arrival

Chapter Fifteen: Arrival

_Well, Neville went off to look for his toad, so he got to miss our next guests. He also missed the trolley lady but that isn't as interesting._

"No, this isn't it," the blond haired boy said as he opened the compartment. He looked at Ron and sneered. "You're a Weasley. I can tell. Red hair and hand-me-down clothes." He looked at Malcolm and Hermione and his sneer became a smirk. "Oh, look what we have here. You two must be the muggle twins everyone's talking about."

Malcolm smirked back. "And you must be the jabbering idiot we were warned about." He pointed at the two large boys behind the blond boy. "And they must be your bodyguards. Without them you wouldn't last a minute."

The blond boy frowned. "When you insult someone, it helps if you don't talk with an accent. It makes you sound like a stupid American, instead of just stupid."

Malcolm stood up, his fist raised, "Then let's see how good your bodyguards are."

"Draco?" one of the bodyguards asked.

"No. They're not worth it. Let's go find him."

"OH!" Hermione said with a hint of surprise. "Are you looking for the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"What's it to you?" Draco snarled.

"I've met him. He thinks you're an idiot, just like Malcolm said."

Draco muttered something inaudible as he left, but it was obvious from the tone that it wasn't nice.

"I give him five minutes," Hermione said after the three boys left.

Ron smirked. "You mean, before he guesses who Malcolm is? Try five hours. No one knows it's Malcolm. And Malfoy obviously has a lot of practice arguing with people."

"Five minutes," Hermione repeated. "Or do you honestly believe that Neville hasn't told anyone? After all, it's not a secret."

A loud shout was heard in the corridor. "WHAT? YOU'RE LYING."

The compartment door swung open. It was Malfoy and his two bodyguards.

"It's a lie, isn't it?" Malfoy snarled.

Malcolm smiled and raised the hair off his forehead.

"But?" Malfoy said in confusion. "You have a twin sister?"

"What are you talking about? Hermione's parents picked me up at the airport. I never saw her before then." Malcolm turned to Hermione. "I was right. He is a raving idiot."

"You said he was a jabbering idiot," Hermione corrected.

Malfoy went red as the three in the compartment started laughing. When he reached inside his robe for his wand, Malcolm jumped at him and hit the blond boy in the face as hard as he could.

_Francis taught me the first rule in an argument. If he reaches into a pocket, he's reaching for something. Hit him hard and hit him fast._

In order to oblige Malcolm's assault, Malfoy quickly pulled his hand out of his robe and grabbed his nose. When Malcolm hit him the second time, he backed away. Then Malcolm paused as he came face to face with the two bodyguards. One of them grabbed Malcolm by the shoulder and pulled his fist back. Then he screamed and pulled his hand away, waving something furry in Malcolm's face. It was Scabbers!

The rat was finally flung off the bodyguard's thumb and into Malcolm's arms. Unsure of what was going on, Draco and his two friends fled into the next car. Malcolm looked down at the rat lying lifeless in his arms.

"Um, Ron. Your rat."

"Is he dead?" Ron asked with a hint of fear.

Suddenly, a small burping noise was heard and Ron smiled. "He's fine. He's only asleep."

Malcolm frowned. "Asleep? But what was that noise?"

Ron looked embarrassed. "He's an old rat, you know. He used to belong to my brother Percy. " He shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes he snores." The rat made the burping noise again. "See."

"Hello, dears," A lady said from the corridor. "Food Trolley. Would you like anything?"

"Sure," Malcolm said as he turned around. He stopped before he could say anything, looking at the strange candies. "What can I get for this?" He asked as he pulled out two Sickles.

With Ron's help and an American quarter, the three each had two Chocolate Frogs TM. As Malcolm opened his up, Hermione had to ask, "These aren't real frogs?"

"Naw, They're just chocolate. It's the cards you want. All the famous wizards."

"I've got Dumbledore," Malcolm said, turning the card over to read about Mugwumps, Nicholas Flamel and twelve uses of Dragon's blood.

"He's not in his picture," Hermione said when she looked at Malcolm's card.

"He'll be back," Ron assured her. "You can't expect him to hang around all day."

Hermione nodded at the apparent logic. "Ron, do you know much magic? You are from a wizarding family. Malcolm and I tried reading the books, but it's not the same."

"Not much. I know what some of the spells are, from watching my Mum. And I just got my wand." Ron paused as he blushed. "But it's another hand-me-down. It's not in good shape."

"I know what it's like," Malcolm told him. "Before I found out I was adopted the only thing new I got was a baby brother. If my mom had the chance she'd have made me get hand-me-downs too. Just to save my money for later."

"Lucky you," Ron said with a hint of jealousy. "I ended up with a baby sister."

"I'm sure that was terrible, having a sister," Hermione said with a touch of anger.

"It was," Ron answered rudely. "Who do you think gets all the attention? Mummy's little girl. Who never gets someone else's castoffs? Mummy's little girl. Who always gets away with everything? Mummy's little girl."

"You made your point," Hermione acknowledged. "And you made me happy I'm an only child." She began to stare at Ron. "Do you know? You have dirt on your nose. Right there."

* * *

"FIRS' YEARS, THIS WAY."

Malcolm, Ron and Hermione followed the sound of the booming voice and found themselves in front of Hagrid.

"Malcolm, ye made it."

"Yeah, Hagrid. This is Hermione. She met me when my plane landed. And this is Ron. He showed us how to get to the train."

"Ye must be a Weasley," Hagrid said with a grin. "I've seen enough of yer family to know one on sight." Hagrid looked up. "Excuse me. YOU THERE, IS THIS YOURS?"

Neville Longbottom came running up, eagerly taking the toad that Hagrid had pulled out of his pocket.

"Now, ye keep hold of 'im this time. And all of ye follow me."

Malcolm followed Hagrid down a dark path to the lake. There were no lights to see by and he had to hope that he was following the right path.

_You know, I'm not sure Hagrid is following a path. I think he's making one._

"Look," Someone called as they reached the lake. "It's beautiful."

Malcolm looked across the lake to see a castle, brilliantly lit and unbelievably huge. His jaw dropped at his first sight of Hogwarts.

"In the boats, now," Hagrid called out, and the four of them (Malcolm, Ron, Hermione and Neville) climbed into one boat. Hermione began to tell them some of the history of Hogwarts and continued her dissertation across the lake and up to the front door. By this time, only Neville was listening to her and Ron was explaining to Malcolm about Quidditch, which both boys found much more interesting. Then all conversation stopped when they entered the castle.

"May I have your attention," a stern looking woman said. "I am Professor McGonagall. You will be sorted momentarily but I need you to line up in alphabetical order. Do you have any questions?"

"Excuse me, Professor," Draco Malfoy asked, his right eye discolored and puffy.

"I'll call Madam Pomfrey to take care of you."

"About the person who assaulted me . . ."

"I know about that, Mr. Malfoy. The woman who runs the Trolley Cart informed us of what happened. The matter will be taking care of."

"Soon, I hope," Draco said fawningly.

"I'll take care of it now. Malcolm."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Fighting is not allowed in the school or on the Hogwarts Express. Don't do it again."

"I'll try, Ma'am."

"Thank you. First Years. If you will follow me."

_Wow. That never happened before. I guess the Trolley Lady did see everything, including Malfoy reaching for his wand._

A First Year screamed, then another. Malcolm looked up as Hermione said, "Those must be the ghosts. I read about them. They're actually quite friendly."

"Like Casper," Malcolm added.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Casper. You know, Casper the friendly ghost."

"You know a ghost? But I thought you were raised as a muggle?"

"They made a movie about him."

Ron gave him a confused look that convinced Malcolm to drop the subject. His timing was excellent because Peeves the Poltergeist chose that time to introduce himself by hurling insults and trash at everyone.

"I'll bet his name's not Casper," Ron muttered, grateful that McGonagall chased the spirit away. "I'll see you in Gryffindor," he told Malcolm, showing him crossed fingers, and took his place in the back of the line.

McGonagall walked up to Malcolm and led him to a different part of the line, by two twin sisters named Patil. "I need to place you here."

"But I'm not in order."

"We're sorting you by your birth name. The headmaster thought it would be a good idea to sort you by calling your birth name followed by your adoption name."

"I get it," Malcolm said with a smile. "Everybody knows me by that other name. That's a good idea."

McGonagall gave him a thin smile. "Why, thank you Malcolm. I'm glad you approve."

* * *

_The sorting was great. The ceiling. The floating candles. The talking hat. Well, the hat tried to talk me into going into Slytherin but I argued with it. And that thing about my name took a lot of people by surprise. The best part was when the hat called out Gryffindor. Ron's brothers stood on their seats and began shouting, "We've got What's-His-Name. We've got What's-His-Name."_

* * *

A/N: I would like to, once again, thank all of those who have been reading this story. I also apologize again to those of you who find the storyline confusing, and I want to assure those readers not to worry. When you are dealing with Malcolm, feeling confused is a normal reaction.

In case anyone has missed it: HP VI is set to be released on June 18, 2005.


	16. Classes Begin

A/N: I would like to thank Ouatic7 for finding all those mistakes. They have been fixed. Also, I have carefully reread the last chapter, and this chapter, which means that there are still about a dozen errors. As a piece of trivial: Nits are the discarded egg casings of head lice. A nit is very small and, since the louse has already hatched, is harmless. Isn't education wonderful?

I also thank Romantic2 for liking the last chapter. And you will be happy to know that, now that everyone knows Malcolm's name, there will be no more of those name jokes you didn't like. Well . . . maybe one more.

I want to thank Ghostdraconi for wishing me a Merry Christmas, and for liking Malcolm's affect on Hermione. I have this vision of Malcolm in a hockey mask, holding a roman candle, and saying in a guttural voice, "I am your brother, Hermione." (That's a pun on Star Wars for those who didn't get it.) (For those who really didn't get it, it's a takeoff on the phrase, "I am your father, Luke.) (And before anyone asks, NO, this is not becoming a SW/HP crossover.) (If you would like an absurd thought, a SW/MITM crossover. "I am your father, Malcolm.")

I apologize for the rambling. I blame it on too much Eggnog and Marzipan.

Chapter Sixteen: Classes Begin

"Malcolm," Ron asked as they prepared for bed. "I've been wondering. Do you fancy Hermione Granger?"

"What do you mean?"

Seamus Finnigan laughed. "Ron wants to know if ye like her."

"Yeah, of course I like her."

Seamus smirked. "Do ye really like her?"

"Yes," Malcolm said with a touch of anger. "I really do like her. Really. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Well," Ron replied, "we've noticed she tends to be bossy and a know-it-all."

"First of all, she's not bossy," Malcolm said sternly. "And she doesn't know everything. She just knows how to find out anything she wants to know. That doesn't make her a know-it-all. And even if she did . . ."

"I'm sorry I said anything," Ron said noisily. He turned aside to the others in the dorm. "That's why he fancies her. Birds of a feather."

Malcolm stared in surprise as everyone laughed.

_I know they're laughing at me but I don't know why. Just because I said I like Hermione. Uh, oh. I just realized what fancy means._

"Um, Ron. Why did you ask me if I fancy Hermione?"

"That's what Fred told me. He said it was the only reason you'd make up lies like being her brother."

"No it isn't. I can think of plenty of reasons."

_They didn't have to agree so quickly. But I'm not worried. Ron already told me that his brothers like to play practical jokes. Nobody will believe them._

* * *

Malcolm dressed the next morning and went down to the common room. Hermione and the first years from her dorm were waiting for him.

"Malcolm," Hermione said warmly as she walked up and took his hand. "Would you help me win a bet I have with the other girls?"

"Sure."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. I mean that."

Malcolm frowned as a couple of the girls giggled. "So, Hermione, what's the favor?"

_What's wrong? That girl, Lavender Brown, her jaw just dropped to the floor. And the others are staring at me like I did something stupid._

"That was the favor, Malcolm. They said you'd never let me kiss you, because . . ."

"He fancies you," Neville Longbottom offered. "He told us last night."

"That's not true," Malcolm argued. "Well, yes it is, but I didn't mean it like that."

Aware of the stares Malcolm was receiving, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the entrance. "Why don't we go to breakfast?"

"I don't believe it," Ron said as Malcolm went out the entranceway. "She already has him on a leash."

Malcolm groaned. He groaned all the way to the Great Hall.

"It isn't that bad," Hermione insisted. "I know you like me. And I know you don't like me as much as everyone else thinks." She smirked. "You like me as though I was your sister."

"That's not true," Malcolm said. "If I thought of you as a sister, I wouldn't like you at all."

"Here they come," Hermione said in between giggles. She smirked and said in a loud voice as the other first years sat down, "I'm glad you don't think of me as a sister."

"You're enjoying this. Aren't you?" Malcolm whispered.

"I thought I would pay you back for Trafalgar Square."

"Why not pay me back for the school yard."

"Later." Hermione grinned.

_It's almost funny. Hermione led me to Transfiguration without a problem. Which was a good thing. I was going to go with Ron and Neville but they got lost and came in late. McGonagall was not happy. Then we went to Charms. I mean, I like Hermione and I understand that the girls think it's great that she has a boyfriend. But I'm a guy. I'm Eleven. I know what I would do if I found out another guy my age had a girlfriend. And now I know I'm normal for my age group._

"There they are. Kissy. Kissy."

"Very funny, Seamus."

"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Malcolm with a baby carriage."

"Clever, Dean, Clever."

"Malcolm and Hermione sitting in a tree . . ."

"Ron!"

"Boys," Hermione said sternly. "You're embarrassing Malcolm by your remarks. You shouldn't be rude."

The girls agreed with her. "They're so immature." "My mother says they never get past this stage." "Hermione would snag the only decent boy around."

"Excuse me," Neville asked. "Why is Malcolm hitting his head on the desk?"

_I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want . . ._

"Class to order," Professor Flitwick said as he called the class to order. "Malcolm. Please stop that. It's very painful."

* * *

"This class will come to order." Severus Snape walked briskly into the dungeon classroom. "There will be no foolish wand waving in this class." He reached his desk and turned around glaring at half the students, giving an extra glare at Malcolm.

_At least my scar didn't hurt me this time. And who cares about brewing fame. With his attitude, I just want this class to be over._

"And there he is," Professor Snape said, "Our newest celebrity. Malcolm, are you as smart as everyone claims you are?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," Malcolm said, grinning like a fool.

"Wonderful. Then you won't mind answering a few questions for me. To show everyone exactly how smart you are."

"That would be fun." Malcolm's grin widened.

Snape grinned as well. "Where would I find a bezoar?"

"That's easy. E-Bay."

Snape's grin froze in place as he stared at Malcolm. (Some of the muggle born students laughed but Hermione put her hands over her eyes and shook her head.)

"What is an ebay?"

"On the internet. You can find anything there. Oh, right, you don't have computers. Never mind."

"I'll put that down as a wrong answer."

"Whatever." Malcolm kept grinning.

Hermione groaned.

"Let's try this again. And try to give a serious answer. What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfbane?"

Hermione groaned again.

"Stop that noise, you foolish girl." Snape slapped the desk in front of Hermione forcing her to look up. "Five points from Gryffindor for making a disturbance. Your answer, Malcolm."

"One letter." Malcolm paused. "Should I elaborate?"

"Please do," came the icy reply.

"It's simple. Monkshood has nine letters and Wolfbane has eight letters. That's a difference of one letter. That's the difference." Before Snape could comment, Malcolm continued. "You could look at it a different way. There are three o's in Monkshood so that's only seven different letters but Wolfbane has eight different letters. There's still a difference of one letter. It's all wordplay, really."

"Really."

_The truth is, I do know the answer to that one but I'm not going to admit it._

Snape shook his head. "I'll mark that as another wrong answer. Shall we try for a third question?"

"Third time pays for all." Malcolm's grin never wavered. Hermione did not groan but she did cover her eyes.

"Malcolm, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Malcolm frowned. "In the States, you'd get at least ten years. If you plea-bargained it down to possession you could get away with rehab, but you'd better get a good lawyer." Malcolm paused for effect. "Professor, are you a junkie?"

The entire class went quiet. Snape turned around, completely red in the face with anger. "YOU . . . IMPERTINENT . . . LITTLE . . . EXPLETIVE DELETED."

_Hey, I learned a new word. I wonder what it means. I should ask._

* * *

Dumbledore smiled at his visitor. "And why do I have the pleasure of your company, Malcolm?"

"I accused Professor Snape of being a drug addict."

Dumbledore's smile became a frown. "That was not very wise, considering you will be in his class for several years."

"He hates me anyway. He called me a celebrity, then started asking all sorts of question and expecting me not to be able to answer them."

"But you didn't answer them."

"I could have, but that would have made him mad."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "So you gave him absurd answers and then insulted him."

"I guess he told you."

"No. He was too angry to phrase his complaint clearly. I merely chose the most logical explanation based upon what I know of everyone involved."

Malcolm was in awe. "That's amazing. I never knew a teacher who bothered to do that."

"Thank you, Malcolm, for that backhanded compliment. Now, what shall we do as far as your punishment?" Dumbledore looked directly at the boy. "If you suggest we forget about it then I will make sure you return home as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm said in a cowed voice. "I think anything you suggest would be fine."

"An excellent answer. Why don't we start with a written apology followed by several detentions with your head of house?"

_That's a relief. I thought I'd have to deal with Snape for detention as well. I guess I should be thankful for small favors._

"Thank you, Sir. I'll get started on the apology right away."

Dumbledore smiled. "What a wonderful idea."

* * *

Hermione stood by as Malcolm sat in the common room writing. After three solid hours of effort, he was already on his second line.

"Do you need help, Malcolm?"

"Yeah, how do you tell a lousy git that you're sorry for insulting him. And it's got to sound believable."

_I got the word 'git' from Ron. In exchange, I taught him to say 'dang'. I think I got the better end of the deal._

"I can do it," Hermione said as she sat down next to Malcolm. "After all, you did it for me. It's the least I can do."

_What's she talking about? I did it because Snape is a jerk, excuse me, a git._

"I mean," Hermione said blushing slightly, "I'm sure you would have given the correct answers. After all, I knew them. But, you know, after he called me silly . . ."

"Well, Okay," Malcolm said. "I'll let you write the letter, but I'll still do the detentions."

"Thank You, Malcolm."

Hermione hugged Malcolm then took his quill and began writing. Malcolm looked up smiling to see Ron and Neville watching him. He dropped the smile at once.

"Um, hi guys."

"Hi, lovebirds," Neville answered as Ron snickered.

"Hi, Neville, Ron," Hermione said without looking up. "Malcolm, why don't you go play with them while I finish your . . . homework for you."

"Yeah, great idea," Malcolm said in a voice that would sour lemonade.

"Yeah, Let's play," Ron said, laughing with Neville as they walked out of the common room.

Hermione looked up to see Malcolm still sitting there. "Go on. I told you I'd take care of this."

Malcolm got up and stormed toward the entranceway only to be stopped by Fred, or George, it was hard to say.

"Tell me, Malcolm," Gred asked him in a whisper. "Why do you like her?"

Malcolm smiled and answered in a low voice, "She's doing my homework for me."

"Good point," Forge whispered back. "Since Ron left, would you like to come play with us? Fred and I . . ."

_Aha, it is George._

". . . are going to practice Quidditch. Would you like to try your hand on a broom?"

* * *

Malcolm stood in Professor McGonagall's office. With him were Fred, George and Oliver Wood.

"And the three of you let him use a broom IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF THE RULES?"

McGonagall glared at the three older boys when they nodded. She paused, then asked, "How good is he?"

"He's a natural," George said at once.

"He's better than that," Fred insisted.

"We could win the cup with him as our seeker." Oliver Wood's grin was quickly matched by the Professor.

"I'll have to talk to Dumbledore. Wood, I'm putting you in charge of Malcolm. As part of his punishment for insulting Professor Snape I want you to run him ragged, and to keep it a secret."

"I can do that," Oliver said with glee. "Malcolm, eat a light supper. And eat quickly. We'll be going back to the pitch until it gets dark."

_Oh, what a horrible punishment. To practice flying on a broom until I'm too tired. It's the first time I've ever been on a broom and I know I'll never get tired of it._

Malcolm ate almost nothing at supper. Hermione demanded to know why but he wouldn't, and couldn't, tell her. Then he left as quickly as he could. Hermione was there when he finally returned to Gryffindor an hour after sunset.

"Malcolm, where did you go?" She saw how sweaty and dirty he was. "What happened to you?"

Fred and George came in at that moment, in the same condition as Malcolm. They both grinned when they heard Hermione's questions.

"That's easy to explain." "Little Ronnikins didn't want to play with Malcolm." "So we let Malcolm play with us." "Only Malcolm got tired of playing with us." "Isn't that right, Malcolm?"

"Almost," Malcolm said. "I didn't get tired OF playing with you guys. I got tired FROM playing with you guys."


	17. Quidditch and Love

A/N: This time I need to thank raela koira for finding a spelling error, which I have again fixed. I deliberately went over ths chapter with a fine toothed comb. Which means I should have plenty of mistakes.

I would also like to thank Ouatic7, Raziel Tepes and Romantic2 for their reviews, although I fear Romantic2 will not like this chapter either. I will keep trying, however, to please everyone.

Chapter Seventeen: Quidditch and Love

Malcolm landed his broom to polite applause from the dozen people watching. All the members of Gryffindor's Quidditch team turned to Dumbledore in anticipation.

"What do you think, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"He was very good."

"He was Bloody Brilliant," Ron said. His brothers quickly backed him up.

"Thank you, Mister Weasley."

"He's better than my brother Charlie," Ron added.

"I hadn't noticed." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling when Ron turned to him in surprise. "Now that Mister Weasley is finished with his assessment, I will make mine. I should point out that the rules state that first years may not have brooms and may not play on the house teams. All of you should look forward to next year."

"But Mister Dumbledore, Sir," Hagrid said with passion. "Ye saw how fast he flew, and a week ago he never saw a broom. He's a natural if there ever was one."

"And," McGonagall added, "there have been exceptions in the past."

"Yes, Minerva, but the last time was over a century ago. And I should add that Malcolm has shown himself to be less than an exemplary student. It would not be proper to make an exception for him."

"Excuse me," Hermione Granger said as she stepped out of the shadows. "Professor Dumbledore, would it be proper to make exceptions for several students, including Malcolm?"

"You have a scheme, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled. "I have been talking to other first years, especially those from wizarding families. Many of those students already know how to fly and how to play Quidditch. You could make an exception for all of the first years and you could claim, uh, I mean you could consider doing this as a possible permanent change of the rules."

Albus nodded. "That was well thought out, young lady. My compliments to you for a quick and ready mind. I will consider it, and I will let you know my decision at the evening meal."

Hermione walked over to Malcolm as Dumbledore and McGonagall returned to the castle. "He's going to say yes, you know."

"Thanks, Hermione. That was a great idea you had."

"I wanted to pay you back for what you did at the schoolyard. And I told the girls you weren't really my boyfriend." Hermione frowned smugly. "I don't think I'll be as popular now."

Malcolm smiled as he saw Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil step out of the shadows where Hermione had hidden to watch. "Of course you will, Hermione. You're the best girl a guy could ever have." Then he kissed her before she could react. As she stepped back in surprise, Malcolm turned to look at Lavender. "We're just friends, really. It's nothing special."

Lavender smirked. "We're friends, too, but you never tried to kiss me."

"Well, maybe later." Malcolm cast a quick glance at Hermione. "Um, maybe not."

* * *

"You're hopeless," Hermione told Malcolm as they sat down for Potions class.

"You told everyone we fancy each other."

"And you made everyone believe it."

"Only after you told them you lied about it."

Hermione smirked. "I only said we liked each other to embarrass you. I told them the truth so everyone would stop teasing you."

"Hermione, boys don't think like that. They were teasing me because they thought you were lying. They stopped now that they think you were telling the truth. Didn't you notice? Not one joke since I kissed you."

"That's stupid."

"That's the way boys are," Lavender exclaimed from behind them. "I think Malcolm was clever the way he handled them."

"Thank you," Malcolm said. "At least one girl appreciates what I did."

_The problem is that none of the other guys want to hang out with me. It means they have to let a girl hang out with them, too. The only exceptions are Fred and George, but that's because of Quidditch. Even Ron thinks I'm a bit weird. _

Professor Snape entered the classroom with his usual brisk walk. When he reached his desk, he turned around. He was smiling.

"Before the class begins, I would like to congratulate one of my students for his exceptional abilities. Because of the change of rules by Professor Dumbledore, this young man was given the opportunity to try out for his house's Quidditch team and he has succeeded in becoming the team's new seeker."

_What's up with him? He's looking at me and he's smiling. Before this he's always insulted me for the slightest reason._

"I think we should all give a cheer for . . ." He shifted his eyes to a blond boy in the front row. ". . . Draco Malfoy."

Snape's smile grew as he noted Malcolm's reaction to the news. He kept his smile for the remainder of the class.

Ron joined Malcolm and Hermione as they left the dungeons. "Do you believe that? Malfoy made the team for Slytherin. And Snape didn't even bother mentioning you."

"Snape hates me," Malcolm acknowledged. "He would have mentioned me only if I failed."

"That's . . . disgusting," Oliver Wood said to Katie Bell as they walked by. "Oh, hi Malcolm."

"Hey, Oliver. I see you heard about Malfoy."

Everyone stopped. Oliver looked at Malcolm. "Malfoy? You mean that Slytherin first year? What about him?"

"He's Slytherin's new seeker," Malcolm said sullenly. "Snape just told us."

"That explains it," Katie Bell said. "I just told Oliver I saw the Slytherin team. They all had brand-new Nimbus 2000's."

Hermione fumed. "Do you mean he bought his way onto the team? That's unfair. That's cheating . . ."

"That's Slytherin," Oliver finished for her. "And to make matters worse, Malcolm doesn't even have a broom. He'll have to use one of the school brooms."

"Maybe not," Malcolm said. "All I have to do is convince my Mom that flying brooms are perfectly harmless. Then she'll let me buy a broom."

_I know my Mom. I know I can explain it to her. I know she'll understand . . . Let's be real. I know I can find the best broom this school has._

* * *

Malcolm sat at the breakfast table with Hermione, Ron and Neville. Ron had decided that since Malcolm was on the team he might be a decent person after all. He was halfway to the point of deciding he was wrong when the mail came. An Owl swooped down and dropped a broom-shaped package directly in front of Hermione.

"It worked," Hermione shouted. "Your mum sent me the broom." She turned and smiled as she read the attached letter. "Go ahead, Malcolm. Open it."

Malcolm, with Ron's eager help, unwrapped the broom. They both stared at the brand-new Nimbus 2000. Malcolm had to ask how and Hermione smiled.

"I did what you would do in my place. I lied to your mother."

"You lied?" Ron asked. "Without Malcolm?"

Malcolm frowned at Ron, the asked, "What was the lie?"

"That you had a chance to play Quidditch but you didn't want to. You kept wanting to spend time with me, and I thought it was unhealthy at such a young age. It was only a suggestion that if you had a broom you would choose to join the team out of guilt."

Malcolm was impressed. "That was clever. How did you think of something so devious?"

Hermione grinned at him. "I had a very good teacher."

"Uh, Malcolm," Ron said as an owl dropped a red letter in front of him.

Malcolm reached for the letter but noticed Ron move to cover his ears. "Ron?"

"It's a Howler, Malcolm. It's not nice but it is loud."

With trepidation, Malcolm opened the letter.

"MALCOLM. ARE YOU CRAZY? ARE YOU STUPID? DO YOU WANT TO END UP LIKE FRANCIS? YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A GIRLFRIEND SO FORGET THAT IDEA RIGHT NOW. AND YOU NEED EXERCISE. YOU'RE PLAYING ON THAT TEAM. IF I HEAR THAT YOU DON'T I'LL DRAG YOU HOME IN AN INSTANT. AND NO GIRLFRIEND."

_That was cool. I was feeling homesick, and now I'm not._

Hermione was laughing. "Malcolm, your mother asked me to make sure you did what she said. You're playing Quidditch."

Malcolm smiled as she handed him the broom. "I'll play, even if I end up hating every minute of it."

"I knew I could make you do it."

"Hermione, how did you manipulate my mom like that?"

Hermione smiled and Malcolm became nervous.

_That's strange. My MOM reflex just kicked in and I know she isn't here._

"Nice broom, Malcolm," Draco Malfoy said from behind, drawling Malcolm's name. He looked at the letter Hermione was holding. "Did your girlfriend get this for you? How cute."

_That reflex must have been my imagination. There's no way I'd get nervous because of him._

"Hey, Malfoy. Did you want me to color your eye again?"

Draco smirked. "Why don't we go one better? Wizards duel. Midnight."

"Where?" Malcolm asked.

"You must be joking," Hermione said. "Dueling is forbidden. You'll both be expelled if you're caught."

"The Trophy Room?" Malfoy suggested. "It's never locked."

"I'll be there," Malcolm assured him.

"I could have sworn you were intelligent," Hermione said in a huff. "How could I be so wrong?"

Malfoy looked at his two companions. "Goyle's my second. Who's yours?"

Malcolm looked at Hermione. "I'll . . . find somebody."

"I'll see you then." Malfoy gave him a final smirk and walked away.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said angrily. "What if somebody hears about this."

Malcolm frowned at Hermione. "Could you talk a little louder. A couple of the teachers couldn't hear what you said."

"I heard," Ron said from across the table. "I'll be your second if you need one."

"Hey, Thanks."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It must be because you're a boy. I would never dream of doing such a thing. It's against the rules."

_Right. I believe that. But she has no problem lying to my mother._

* * *

"Are you ready, Ron?" Malcolm asked.

"Ready."

The two boys had twenty minutes to reach the Trophy Room but they wanted to be early. They slipped out of the dorm and down the stairs into the common room.

"Empty," Ron said, and both boys went quickly to the entrance. They pushed the portrait open and stepped into the corridor, coming face to face with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.

"Um, Hi, Hermione."

"Don't let the portrait close," Hermione said as the portrait swung back into place. She then scowled at Malcolm as though he did that deliberately. "Thank you very much."

"What did I do?" Malcolm asked, then returned Hermione's scowl. "Why are you out here? Are you trying to stop me?"

"I forgot the password," Neville explained. "I couldn't get back in."

Malcolm looked puzzled. "But Hermione knows it. She wouldn't forget."

"Look at the portrait," Hermione insisted. "I noticed Neville didn't return so I came out to look for him. The Fat Lady was gone by the time we came back. Now none of us can get back in."

"Why don't you join us?" Ron offered. "We can all watch Malcolm best Malfoy."

Hermione grudgingly followed. The other option was to wait for someone else to find them. If it was Filch who found them, it wouldn't be good.

As they entered the trophy room, Malcolm smiled. "He's not here yet."

"Maybe he chickened out," Ron suggested.

"Meow," Mrs. Norris proposed.

"Maybe he set you up," Hermione concluded as the others quickly fled out of the opposite doorway. She followed just as quickly upon hearing Filch's voice.

The four ran any which way, the call of the cat never far behind them. Finally, they ran down one corridor and found themselves faced with a locked door.

"We're trapped," Neville moaned.

"NO, we're not," Malcolm said as he drew his wand. "Alohamora."

As the door opened, Hermione couldn't help but comment. "I'm not surprised you knew that spell."

Malcolm smirked. "Let's continue this conversation on the other side of the door."

"Good idea," Ron said, and led the way, closing the door behind them.

"Do you hear anything?" Malcolm asked as Ron pressed his ear against the door.

"Filch," Ron whispered. "He's looking around. I think he's leaving." Ron turned around to look at Malcolm, and screamed.

In surprise, Malcolm, Hermione and Neville turned around to see what caused that reaction. Then they screamed as well. Hermione was the first to calm down.

"Don't be scared. They can smell fear."

_Hermione gets an A for understatement._

"Hermione, it's a giant three-headed dog. And it's growling. It's not smelling fear. It's smelling lunch."

"Filch is still outside," Ron reminded them. "We have to do something."

"Music hath sounds to sooth the savage beast," Malcolm quoted.

The other three glared at him. Ron was first. "You've got to be joking. Are you suggesting we sing to it, uh, them, uh, it?"

"Either that, or talk to Filch."

Ron nodded. "Know any good songs?"

Hesitantly, and nervously, Hermione began to sing.

"God save our Gracious Queen / God save our Noble Queen / God save the Queen."

The three boys watched in wonder as Hermione sang the entire national anthem. Their wonder turned to surprise as the giant dog sat down and rested its heads on it paws. By the time Hermione finished the second verse, the dog was sitting up and wagging its tail.

_I don't know how, but Hermione's singing worked. We did have one close call, though. Neville was too close to one of the heads and it licked his face in appreciation. The fact that he's wet from head to toe with dog drool isn't that bad, but the smell is terrible._

Somehow, the foursome made it back safely to the Gryffindor tower. Three of them ran gratefully off to bed while Neville went to take a long hot shower. In his clothes. He never forgave Malcolm for his stupid idea.


	18. Halloween

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. In case anyone is interested, this is the last chapter of the alternate history. Then we get back to the story. That is, we continue with the story. Now that I think about it, I could start all over again, but this time instead of replacing Harry with Malcolm I could replace Hermione with, hmmm, how about Wednesday Addams?

Chapter Eighteen: Halloween

"Did you notice," Lavender Brown asked Hermione Granger as they walked out of the classroom, "how Malcolm always starts to smile before he does something stupid?"

Hermione laughed. "Why did you ask that? Was he smiling?"

Lavender laughed with her. "Just as the class was ending. I'm curious what he's going to do now."

"As long as I'm not around, I don't care."

Lavender nodded her head. "He does carry things too far, sometimes."

"All the time," Hermione replied. "Malcolm can't understand what it means to be responsible. He never thinks about anyone but himself. He's the most selfish boy I know."

"But you like him?"

Hermione sighed. "To a point. He's nice enough but he doesn't know when to stop . . ."

They turned a corner and found themselves face to face with Malcolm. Hermione realized at once that he had heard most of the conversation, if not all of it. Especially her criticism of him.

"Excuse me," Malcolm said in a low voice, and walked quickly away.

"Malcolm," Hermione called, but he didn't answer.

Lavender gave a shrug. "He'll just use that as an excuse to play some trick on you, you know."

"You're probably right," Hermione said as they kept walking. "Tonight's the Halloween feast. He'll want to do something."

_I'm a jerk. All this time I thought we were friends. At least Ron's honest about putting up with me. I thought I was being cool and now I know. Everyone's been laughing at me behind my back. I should blame it on Fred and George for being a bad influence._

_Who am I kidding. I screwed up. I keep acting as though I'm still at home. Someone, like Reese, will do something to me unless I get him first. I'll be nice from now on. I'll stay out of everybody's way. Then no one will have any complaints._

* * *

Malcolm wandered through the school for a while, turning down empty hallways when the other alternative was meeting someone. Although he would never admit it, he was feeling sorry for himself. At one point he passed a window which could be opened, and made a decision. He opened the window and climbed up on the sill. Going to the very edge, he leaned over. Then he spit.

_It went all the way to the ground, and I still don't feel any better._

For the lack of anything better to do, he sat down and looked out over the school grounds. He was still there when the sun finally set. He didn't bother going to the Great Hall because he couldn't make himself feel hungry.

The Halloween feast was well underway when Malcolm heard the noise. He turned around from his perch on the open window to see Hermione standing there with Ron coming up behind her.

"What do you want?" Malcolm answered snidely.

"To warn you about the troll," Ron said anxiously. "There's one loose in the school."

"You followed me?" Hermione said in surprise, and a hint of appreciation. Ron nodded, giving her a weak smile.

"A troll?" Malcolm asked.

_What a lame story. I've thought of better stories in my sleep._

"Tell me," Malcolm asked with amusement. "What does this stupid troll look like?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. She pointed down the hallway. Malcolm turned around.

Lumbering down the hallway was the largest (and only) troll that Malcolm had ever seen. His first thought was that he had been right to call it stupid. His second thought was to jump as the troll's club was heading right for the spot where Malcolm was sitting. Fortunately, Malcolm remembered which way to jump.

"Quick, in here," Ron called out.

"You can't go in there," Hermione complained. "That's the girl's bathroom."

"And that's a troll," Ron said, forcing the issue.

They both grabbed Malcolm and dragged him into the bathroom closing the door behind them. For added safety they huddled in one of the stalls.

"We're safe," Ron told them. "Trolls are too stupid. It'll never figure out how to open a door."

The door suddenly splintered, smashed into a thousand pieces by the blow of the troll's club.

"I wonder why they never learned," Malcolm said sarcastically.

"We'll stop it," Hermione said with assurance as she drew her wand.

"How?" Ron asked. "Trolls are too hard headed. And they're almost immune to magic."

"DUCK," Malcolm shouted, making his contribution to the conversation moments before the bathroom stalls were reduced to half of their previous height.

"My wand," Hermione shouted. It had flown out of her hand and landed under the sinks.

Malcolm saw Hermione begin to crawl across the floor, and glanced at the troll. It had spotted Hermione as well and was raising its club.

"Hey, Moron," Malcolm yelled as he suddenly stood up. Yelling didn't work. He grabbed a large wooden splinter and ran at the troll's feet. As the club came down at Hermione, Malcolm jammed the splinter into the troll's little toe, just under the toenail. The troll screamed. The club missed its target by three feet, smashing a pair of sinks. And the troll kicked out in pain. Malcolm hurtled through the air, hitting the far wall and sliding down.

_Do you know what's really amazing? I don't feel any pain at all. I can't move any part of my body, and I see all these really bright stars, but no pain. At least the floor feels really soft._

As Malcolm lay there, he heard Ron's voice shouting the floating feather spell. A few seconds later he heard a loud thunk followed by a louder thump. There was silence for a minute and Malcolm's vision cleared up. Ron was staring at him.

"Are you hurt?"

"I feel weird, but nothing's broken." Malcolm said as he rolled over and passed out.

* * *

"Malcolm?" Madame Pomfrey's voice could be heard clearly.

Malcolm opened his eyes. He was in the infirmary. "What happened?"

"You wrestled a troll, and lost. Do you remember the troll?"

"Yeah, he kicked me."

"Be thankful that's all that he did. You are very lucky to be alive."

"Very lucky, indeed," Albus Dumbledore said as he stepped into Malcolm's line of sight.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Malcolm said automatically. "For all the trouble I've caused."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Am I to assume, Malcolm, that you let the troll into the school? Or should I assume that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"But I was wandering the halls."

"Which isn't forbidden."

"And I'm always causing trouble."

"You annoyed that troll. I know that much. Miss Granger told me how you attacked the creature to keep it from injuring her." Albus smiled. "I can live with those kinds of problems."

"Then you're not mad at me?"

"I have never been mad at you, Malcolm. Annoyed, upset, disappointed, troubled, vexed but never mad. You have a lively spirit which I find quite refreshing."

"Really? But everybody hates me because I 'don't know when to stop'. Those were Hermione's words."

"You learned to stop," Hermione said suddenly. "You stopped once you hit that wall."

Malcolm looked over and saw Hermione sitting up in the bed next to his. "What happened to you?"

"You had to land somewhere after you hit the wall. You picked me."

"Sorry."

Hermione smiled. "It was better than my other option. I'd rather you than the club."

"As to your punishment," Dumbledore said. There was mischief in his eyes. He turned around to Madam Pomfrey. "Send Mister Weasley in. He should be a witness to this."

Ron walked in, smiled at Malcolm and Hermione. He sat in the chair between their two beds and listened with them at the Headmaster's pronouncement.

"Now that all three of you are here." Dumbledore tried to frown and smile at the same time. "There will be no more talk about boyfriends and girlfriends for, um, the next two years at least. Such is the talk of romance and not of humor. Please wait until you are all old enough to understand what it is you are making jokes about. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm said sadly. "Do I have to quit the team?"

"I do believe your mother expressly forbade you from doing so. Which reminds me. Miss Granger, please do not write any more lies to Malcolm, his mother, or any other member of his family. It will not be appreciated when they find out."

"But I didn't lie to Malcolm's mother," Hermione pointed out.

"What?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"It's just that you're so stubborn, Malcolm. You didn't even ask your mother about getting the broom. And I didn't write one letter. I wrote three. After Lois replied to my first letter, we both realized . . ."

"Wait a minute. You're on a first name basis with my mother?"

"Of course. Intellectually, we're equals, but she has a great deal of experience as well. Anyway, we quickly realized you wouldn't believe the truth, that your mum really believes in you, and in the importance of extracurricular activities. So she told me to lie about it."

"And the Howler? Was that part of the plan?"

Hermione grinned widely. "No, it wasn't. When Lois found out about them, she wanted to try one out. That was just for fun."

_Yeah, that's Mom. Humiliation as entertainment._

"And it was amusing," Dumbledore said as he turned to go. "I will leave you to Madam Pomfrey's care."

Once the headmaster left, Malcolm turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'm sorry. For acting like a jerk all the time."

"You don't mean that?" Ron asked. "That was the only thing I liked about you."

"You're joking." Two voices said.

Ron stood up and looked at both Malcolm and Hermione. "Why would I lie about something like that?"

"You've been hanging around Malcolm too long?" Hermione suggested.

"Both of you, listen. You've both been raised as muggles so you don't know what it was like. Us wizard-borns have heard the stories all our lives. The Boy-Who-Lived. How he defeated You-Know Who while still in his cradle. The most powerful wizard in our time. Every witch and wizard our age has had him held up as an example of the perfect child. My mum's told me a hundred times and more, 'the Boy-Who-Lived would never do something like that.' 'Do you think that's the way the Boy-Who-Lived would act?' And on and on. And I came to Hogwarts . . ." Ron smiled at this point. ". . . and I find out that the Boy-Who-Lived gets yelled at more than I do for doing worse things than I've ever done. Malcolm, to all of us who suffered by being compared to you, you're a hero."

"Cool," Malcolm said as Hermione started laughing.

* * *

"So what happened," Malcolm asked as the three friends walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

"After I saved the two of you," Ron smirked, "McGonagall rushed in with Quirrell and Snape. She tried to get them to carry you to the infirmary but Quirrell started acting all funny. Snape had to carry you by himself. I think he hates you even more for that. He hurt his foot somehow and he was limping the entire way."

"That isn't all," Hermione added. "I told them the truth about what happened. Ron and I lost five points each for not going back to the dorms like we were supposed to, but all three of us received five points for defeating the troll. That puts us five ahead."

"Whoopie," Malcolm said callously.

"My feelings exactly," Ron concurred.

Hermione stopped, making the boys stop as well. "Malcolm, I hate to tell you this, but thank you."

"For what?"

"For being completely irresponsible."

"Okay. You've officially confused me. Yesterday morning you were telling Lavender that you hated me because of that."

"I was thinking about what Ron had said. You're a hero to me, too." Hermione laughed as Malcolm gave her a confused look. "Remember when we passed by my old school. Those girls stopped to talk to me, because of you. They never did that before."

"I told you. They just needed something to talk to you about."

"You did that here, too. Malcolm, the other girls talked to me because of you. They wanted to know what you were like. And they wanted to know about me. By the end of the first week we were all close friends. Being smart didn't get in the way. You taught me how to talk to people instead of talking at them. Thank you."

Malcolm couldn't think of a thing to say. Ron ended up answering for both of them.

"That's what friends are for, Hermione. We help each other. Isn't that right, Malcolm?"

_Friends?_

"Hermione," Malcolm said nervously. "I have to tell you. You were the first friend I ever had. I've always been too smart for my own good."

"I know," Hermione said as she began walking again. "Your mum told me."

Ron smirked at Malcolm's stunned expression. "She's the sister you never had."


	19. Quidditch

Chapter Nineteen: Quidditch

Malcolm sat glumly at breakfast as Ron and Hermione joined him. Too many confusing things had happened. He decided to voice his feelings.

"Do you guys get the feeling that something's going on?"

Ron gave him a questioning look.

"I mean, I keep getting the feeling that somebody's hiding something?"

Hermione smirked. "Of course they're hiding something. Remember the dog?"

"You mean Fluffy?" Malcolm smirked at Hermione's surprise.

"That thing has a name?"

"Yeah. I mentioned it to Hagrid. Fluffy belongs to him. He said he lent it to Dumbledore to um, er, um, never mind."

This time it was Ron who smirked. "That's what Hagrid said exactly. 'Um, er, um, never mind'."

"Then that explains the trap door. Whatever it's guarding must be down there."

Ron frowned. "When I went to follow the two of you, I had to hide. I heard someone coming. It was Snape. He walked past where I was hiding. And he was heading toward the third floor corridor."

Malcolm paused. "I think he tried to get past Fluffy." He paused again. "Now I'm wondering what it is they're hiding."

"It could be related," Ron suggested, "to the break-in at Gringotts."

"When did that happen?" Hermione asked.

Malcolm sat up suddenly as he remembered something. "Ron, you know about Gringotts. Do they always hold the keys to the vaults?"

"Only when they're empty, or when they're asked to pass the key to someone else." Ron eyed Malcolm curiously. "Why?"

"Hagrid left my key at Gringotts. But there was a problem because Hagrid had left the wrong key by mistake."

Hermione smiled. "It should be obvious what happened. Hagrid emptied the vault then returned the wrong key. He gave them your key by mistake and left the vault key for you."

"I wonder what they're hiding," Ron mused.

* * *

"This is it, men" Oliver Wood said.

"And women," Angelina Johnson, the chaser, added.

"The big one," Fred continued.

"The one we've been waiting for," George noted.

_Can you tell who was on the team last year?_

"I just want to play," responded Malcolm.

The whistle, taking note of its cue, blew. The game began.

Malcolm was in the air immediately. He flew high, to be above the action, and began to search for the snitch.

"Oooh, nice broom." Draco Malfoy was hovering on his own broom, directly behind Malcolm.

"At least I know how to use it, Malfoy."

"Malfoy? Malcolm, I thought we were closer than that. You should call me by my first name."

"Do you mean Draco as in Draco the Wacko? Or Draco as in Draco the big Fake- O?"

"How droll, Malcolm. And not very original."

"I guess you do hear them a lot."

Malcolm smiled as Draco's face flushed with anger.

Draco sneered. "Just watch, you stupid foreigner. I'll show you how this game is played."

"OK."

Malcolm turned his broom around and sat there, watching Draco. He didn't move but he did keep smiling. After a short while, Draco flew to another part of the field. Malcolm followed him. Draco flew higher. Malcolm followed. Draco flew lower. So did Malcolm.

"STOP THAT," Draco yelled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop following me around."

"But you were going to show me how the game was played."

_I know what I'm doing is childish, but sometimes childish things are the easiest way to annoy people. Anyway, now I'm going to do something mean._

"Excuse me, Draco. Could you show me later? I'm going to catch the snitch."

Malcolm flew across the field as fast as he could, then aimed downward until he was below most of the players. He made several zigzags along the way just to make it look real then looked behind to make sure Draco was following him. Malcolm was grinning when he looked forward again and began to fly upward. That was when the flash of gold passed before his eyes, and Malcolm turned his broom sharply. What was a joke was now real. He really was chasing after the snitch. He followed it through a crowd of players without getting hit and swerved around a bludger, then grabbed for the golden ball.

"YAAAH-UGH." Malcolm's cheerful shout ended when the broom suddenly stopped, almost knocking him off. Then Draco Malfoy literally ran into him and bounced off. When he recovered, Malfoy could not see the snitch anywhere but he could see Malcolm was in trouble. He smiled.

Malcolm tried to get his broom moving but it began to buck like a wild horse, turning and twisting every which way. Malcolm held on for dear life, one hand holding on to his broom, the other raised in the air as though he was a bronco buster. (See previous analogy.) Somehow it worked and he managed to stay on despite the rambunctious actions of his broom.

A voice called. It was Fred, flying as close to him as he could get. "MALCOLM, GEORGE IS BELOW YOU. DROP OFF YOUR BROOM AND USE BOTH HANDS TO GRAB FOR HIS."

"I CAN'T USE BOTH HANDS," Malcolm called back as the broom prepared for another fit.

"WHY NOT?"

"I HAVE THE SNITCH IN MY RIGHT HAND."

Madam Hooch heard Malcolm's shout and blew her whistle, announcing the end of the game. Freed from having to play, all the team members converged to help Malcolm when suddenly the broom stopped.

"Malcolm?" Angelina asked nervously.

"I don't know," Malcolm said cautiously. "The broom seems fine now."

"Let's all get down quickly," Oliver Wood suggested. "Just in case."

Malcolm was relieved when he landed safely. He climbed off his broom and turned to face Madam Hooch.

"Malcolm, I AM happy to see that you are fine, but if you don't show me the snitch then your team forfeits the game and you are banned from playing."

_Jeezel, she thinks I would lie about something like that._

Malcolm grinned and opened his hand. The golden snitch was there. Malcolm never heard Madam Hooch's official announcement because six teammates were hugging him for all he was worth.

* * *

"It was Snape," Hermione told him afterward. "He was casting a hex. I saw him. He kept mouthing words and he didn't blink. Your broom returned to normal after I set fire to his robes to distract him."

Ron laughed. "It worked, too. I was watching. Even Professor Quirrell in the top row was distracted by it."

Malcolm frowned. "I know he hates me. I just wish I knew why."

_If I knew why he hated me, then I could really annoy him._

Malcolm resumed frowning. "Maybe we should talk to Hagrid."

* * *

"Yer daft, Malcolm. I'll grant Snape don't like you, but he don't really like anyone. An' he's a Hogwarts teacher. If Dumbledore trusts him tha's enough for me, and it should be enough fer you three."

"But Hagrid," Hermione complained.

"No buts, Hermione," Hagrid firmly stated. "Yer wrong about Professor Snape."

"If you say so, Hagrid." Hermione made it obvious she wasn't convinced.

Malcolm decided to change the subject, sort of. "Hagrid, how's Fluffy doing?"

Hagrid gave Malcolm a frown. "Don't you go botherin' that dog again. It took me hours to get 'im to calm down." He gave a gruff sigh. "Most times music just puts him to sleep. But he really liked that song an' got all worked up when ye all left. Malcolm, I won't ask how ye came to be there, I know ye'll lie anyway, I just want to know how ye knew to sing?"

_Uh oh. He wants a moral introspective. I know what I'll do. I'll confuse him by telling the truth._

"Well," Malcolm began, "I don't know. I remember somebody saying that animals like to be sung to. I wasn't really thinking." He swallowed hard. The truth was becoming a terrible thing to tell. "Um, it just happened. Dang it, Hagrid, it was a giant three-headed dog. We didn't have time to make plans."

"Now calm down. I was just curious. Ye do some strange things, Malcolm, and I know it's because yer an American and bein' raised a muggle. Ye learned things different."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, he does do weird things."

"Name three," Malcolm said angrily.

"Singing to Fluffy," Hagrid pointed out.

"Making fun of strangers for no reason," Hermione replied.

"Anything you do," Ron smirked.

"Only Six weeks until Christmas," Malcolm noted darkly.

Hagrid laughed. "Don't be so dreary, Malcolm. An' don't worry about what's going on. It's all in the good hands of Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, uh, er, uh, never mind about that."

"Nicholas Flamel?" Malcolm frowned in thought. "Why is that name familiar?"

"Don' you three go botherin' about that. Ye hear me."

"If you insist," Hermione said sincerely.

Hagrid stared hard at the young girl. "Fer a moment there, ye sounded just like Malcolm."


	20. Christmas

A/N: A quick note: Happy New Year, 2005 to everyone, except to those of you from Scotland. My facts-of-the-day tell me I should say Happy Hogmanay instead.

Chapter Twenty: Christmas

_You'll never guess what happened over the past six weeks. Nothing. I mean, things did happen. We searched every book in the library for something on Nicholas Flamel. Well, Hermione did. Mostly I read up on three-headed dogs throughout history. And Ron searched all the books on Quidditch. He had this really good idea that the guy might be on one of the teams._

"Honestly, Hermione," Ron exclaimed, "It was worth a try. And I did as well as you did in your search."

"You're not even taking this seriously."

"What makes you think I can find anything if you can't."

Hermione smiled smugly at the compliment but would not be put off. "You saved us from the troll."

"Fine, Hermione. If Nicholas Flamel ever attacks the two of you in the girls' bathroom, I'll find him then."

Hermione smirked at Ron's answer and the argument was done with.

"Malcolm, are you staying for the holidays?"

Malcolm smiled. "Nope. I get to go home and visit the parental units. Since you already know that, why did you ask?"

Hermione looked at him innocently. "I thought because of the distance you might have decided to stay. Then you could help Ron look in the restricted section." Hermione paused. "Why is Ron smiling?"

"Ron isn't staying, either."

"But he told me his parents . . ."

"He's coming home with me."

"WHAT?"

_She just found out that no one will be looking for TWO WEEKS. Like it would make a difference._

"So, Hermione would you like to join us. We're going by floo."

_That caught her interest. She's never traveled the floo network before. And she's never been to the States. And she really wants to see her parents._

"Maybe," Hermione hesitated, "I could visit for Boxing Day."

"I'll tell Dad," Ron offered. "He can set it up before he leaves for Romania."

* * *

The five people entered the Leaky Cauldron. Malcolm immediately waved to Tom the bartender, who grinned in recognition. Tom pointed to the fireplace, and Malcolm and Ron walked over with their trunks.

"Thanks, Mister G, for the lift."

"Your car was interesting," Ron noted.

"Always happy to help," Hermione's father replied.

"Have a safe trip," her mother offered.

"At least it will be quick," Malcolm told her.

"See you in a few days," Hermione said as she hugged Malcolm.

"I'm fine," Ron said when she tried to hug him, making the Grangers laugh.

"Here we go," Malcolm said as he threw the floo powder into the fireplace and called out the name of his house. He stepped into the bright green flames and said, "AAAAHHHH."

"It's only Malcolm," Dewey said when his brother came out of the fireplace.

"It's nice to see you too, you little jerk. MOM, I'M HOME."

"Hi, Honey," Lois said cheerfully as she came out of the kitchen. "Is your little friend coming?"

"Little? Mom he's taller than Reese."

"Who's taller than Reese?" Ron asked as he stepped out of the flames.

"You are. Ron, this is my mom. Mom, this is Ron Weasley."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Ron. I've talked a lot with your parents. Dewey, don't eat that."

Dewey scowled as he took the partially chewed toy out of his mouth. He noticed Ron watching him and explained. "It'll spoil my dinner."

"Uh, right. So, Mrs. . . ."

"Don't bother with that. Call me Lois. That way I don't feel so old."

"Sure, um, Lois. Um, where will I be sleeping?" He showed his suitcase.

"Hal's fixing a place for you right now. HAL."

"I'M BUSY," Hal shouted back from somewhere in the house. He walked into the living room. "It's done. Malcolm's bed is back up, and I've set up the spare bed for Francis."

"And Ron's bed?"

"Who's Ron?"

Lois pointed over to the fireplace where Malcolm and Ron were still standing.

"Malcolm's here already? He's not supposed to be here until Seven."

"Dad, in London it's now Seven Fifteen. They gave you their time."

"Oh," Hal said as he dismissed the subject from his mind. "And this is your friend, Ron?"

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Ron said as they shook hands.

"And you're staying?"

"I was planning on it, Sir."

"Oooh," Hal said as he understood. "That's why we need five beds. No problem. It's taken care of. You can have Malcolm's bed. I'll set something else up for him." Turning to Dewey he added, "Son, show Ron where Malcolm's bed is."

"Mom," Malcolm asked as Dewey led Ron to the bedroom, and Hal ran off to 'do something important', "where were we going to sleep?"

"I tried to get Hal to put a space heater in the garage and screen off a section. I thought you two would like some privacy."

"What happened?"

"Your Dad forgot."

_That means I'll be sleeping on the couch._

Malcolm nodded, and followed Dewey and Ron, but stopped at the doorway.

"That's Reese," Dewey said as he led Ron into the room.

"Malcolm?" Reese said as he saw Ron. "Is that you? You grew a heck of a lot. And your hair? Why is it red? Is it that magic stuff?"

"Go with it," Dewey whispered.

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's the magic."

"Oh my God," Reese cried out when he heard Ron's accent. "They changed your voice, too. I bet Mom was mad."

"She likes it," Dewey told him. "OW"

"No one asked you, runt. Now, shut up."

"Don't hit him," Ron said, stepping between the two brothers.

"Why?" Reese asked. "Is it your turn?"

"No. He's your brother. Would you like it if your brothers hit you?"

Reese looked confused. "Why would you care? Malcolm, this isn't some magic thing, is it? Like in that movie where you've got to be nice to animals and flowers and things like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Ron turned his head. "Malcolm, what is he talking about."

Malcolm kept a straight face as Reese suddenly noticed him. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I never saw that movie."

"Malcolm?" Reese was staring.

"Reese?"

"Who's he?"

"He's Ron. My friend from school. He's visiting for the holidays." Malcolm gave his brother a curious look. "Who did you think he was?"

"He called me Malcolm," Ron offered, trying to suppress a grin.

"Reese," Malcolm looked appalled. "Did you actually think he was me?"

"No, of course not," Reese said nervously as he stepped backward. He tripped over Dewey's foot 'which just happened to be there' and fell backwards into the bookcase.

As Reese lay on the floor with the bookcase on top of him, he shouted for help. "Get this off me. I can't move."

"At all?" Dewey asked, and smiled as he picked up a large dictionary.

"Don't do it," Reese yelled. "If you do, I'll make the next ten years of your life complete hell."

"I can live with that," Dewey said, and dropped the book on his head.

Ron looked at the doorway as Dewey ran out. "Malcolm, you have an interesting family."

* * *

Ron stared in horror as he watched everyone eat dinner. The term 'feeding frenzy' came to mind.

"Aren't you hungry, son?" Hal asked. "Just grab something. Once it's on your plate it's officially yours."

Ron stared in disbelief. "You just grab . . . and . . . fight . . . for your food."

Malcolm paused and looked up at those words. A quick movement with his knife hand kept Reese from stealing his bread roll. "Ron, It's like each one of us is both Fred and George. If you want anything, you have to get it past them."

"Malcolm, now I'm afraid to even try and eat."

"You're pitiful," Dewey said, and gave him a helping of mashed potatoes out of sympathy. Then he whispered, "No one's looking. Grab some chicken."

* * *

"You're not having a good time," Malcolm asked after dinner.

"It's all so different. Is it because you're Americans or because you're muggles."

"Being muggle has a lot to do with it. Mostly, it's just the way we are."

Ron stared at everything. At the unkempt lawn. At the 'For Sale' signs that stood in the neighbors' front yards. At the way the police cars always slowed down as they drove by.

"Malcolm, is it always like this?"

"Like what?"

Ron paused to find the right word. If Hermione were there, she would have immediately chosen 'chaos'.

"Is it always so confusing?"

Malcolm frowned. "Is what always so confusing?"

"It's called life," a voice called out. "The answer is yes."

"FRANCIS." Malcolm was on his feet running down the sidewalk. At the last minute he stopped himself from hugging his brother. "Um, hey Francis."

"Master Malcolm. I see they let you out on parole. Do you have to go back or did you get thrown out?"

Malcolm snorted as they turned and walked back to the house. "I'm going back. It's really great, Francis. I can do all sorts of stuff. And this is my friend, Ron. His parents went to Romania to visit his brother."

Francis shook Ron's hand. "And what's your brother doing in Romania?"

"He's studying dragons."

Francis froze, his hand still holding Ron's. "Dragons? As in really huge, scaly and fire breathing?"

"Yeah."

"Malcolm?"

"Yeah. Dragons."

Francis turned back to Ron. "You just became my new best friend. Guys, let me say hi to the folks. Then I want to hear EVERYTHING about your school."

Ron gave a genuine smile for the first time since his arrival. "We'll start by telling you how well Malcolm can fly a broom."

Francis nodded, then opened the front door and threw his duffle bag inside. "Mom, Dad, I'm home. I'm outside with Malcolm." He closed the door, and turned around. "Let's go into the backyard and talk. Hey, either of you guys want a beer? I hid some in the garage."

_Didn't I tell you. Francis is the greatest brother in the world._

"Francis? Non-Alcoholic Beer?"

"Don't complain. Tastes great and no headaches in the morning. Besides, it was on sale. Ron, you said that Malcolm flies?"

"On a broom. How do I get the cap off the bottle?"

"It's a twist off. Like this. Now about the broom?"

* * *

It was Christmas Eve. Almost midnight. The children were nestled all snug in their beds as visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. Two loving parents looked in on them and sighed happily. This, as you well know, has nothing to do with our story but it's nice to know there really are families like that.

The fireplace suddenly flared green flames, and a large bearded figure stepped out, carrying an equally large bundle behind him.

"Drat these small fireplaces. Ow."

"OK, Santa," Dewey shouted from the shadows. "I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it. Drop the bag and nobody gets hurt."

"I bet yer Dewey. Malcolm warned me about you." Hagrid turned on the lights to reveal Dewey standing there in pajamas he outgrew two years ago. "I thought so. Ye don' even have a fake gun. And look at yer tree. Father Chistmas already came and gone. Ain't that right, Malcolm."

"Yeah." Malcolm said from the couch. "I told you, Dewey. Mom and Dad lied to you when they said it was only them out here."

"Dang. I missed him again. I'll get him next year." Dewey snarled at Malcolm. "I would have shared the loot if you had helped."

Malcolm laughed as he got up. "Let me explain this to you, Dewey, in words you'll understand. You're stupid."

"OW. Don't hit me. It's Christmas. Santa won't give you any presents."

"Dewey, look at the tree. Santa already came. He's not going to turn around and take them back." Malcolm turned toward Hagrid who was adding to the gifts under the tree. "Who else is coming?"

"Just Ron's brothers. They were told to be ready at dawn. They should be here any minute." He paused to look at Malcolm and Dewey. "They like the idea of opening gifts in a real home. Yer mom's making this Christmas a little bit better for 'em." He threw a small package to Dewey. "Here's an early gift from me personally."

Ron stepped out of the bedroom as Dewey caught the package. "Did I hear that Fred and George are coming?"

"And Percy," Malcolm warned. "They're coming here to open their gifts. Then they'll go back and leave us to clean up the mess. Hagrid, are you staying?"

"I'd love to, but . . ."

"Great," Ron said. "I'll get your gift and put it under the tree."

"Now, wait . . ." Hagrid said, halfheartedly.

"Agrippa," Dewey shouted as he waved a Chocolate Frog (TM) Card. "I got a wizard card, and the picture moves and everything. Thank you, Mister Hagrid. I'm going to hide it in my favorite spot so I'll always have it."

Ron looked sadly after the departing figure. "I only need Agrippa and I've got the entire set."

The fireplace flared, and Malcolm shouted, "MOM."

"They're here?" Lois asked as she and Hal came out of the bedroom.

"WE'RE HERE," twin voices shouted as Fred and George came out of the fireplace. "Merry Christmas, everyone. And you too, Ronnikins." They smiled as the fireplace flared again. "AND HEEEERE'S PERCY."

The fireplace flared again and Percy Weasley stepped out, looking around in disgust. "Ma'am, did they bother you much before I arrived."

"Only me," Ron said as George and Fred continued to beleaguer him.

"Malcolm," a wide-eyed Reese asked in all the confusion. "Did they just come out of the fireplace?"

"Yeah. Ron and his brothers are really elves. Let me introduce you to 'The Big Guy'."

Reese followed as Malcolm led him to Hagrid but before anyone could say anything he fell to his knees and hugged Hagrid's boot.

"Santa, I'm sorry. I tried to believe in you but they kept telling me you weren't real." He turned and angrily pointed at Hal and Lois. "It's their fault. Punish them."

"I'm guessin' ye mus' be Reese. Malcolm told me ye were a bit daft."

* * *

"And exactly how is this different?" Francis asked.

"I don't know," Fred replied. "I've never seen the muggle ones."

"Do you have any?" George asked. "We could do a comparison test."

"Good idea," Fred remarked. "We can claim we're doing a parchment for muggle studies."

"Malcolm told me what muggles are. You guys actually study us?"

"No, it's just an excuse."

Francis nodded. "Anyway, what we need is in the backyard. Would either of you guys like a beer."

Fred and George smiled. "Francis you've just become our new best friend."

_This was a great Christmas. Dewey got a bunch of candy and ended up getting sick. Francis ended up with Fred and George in the backyard shooting off fireworks. Dad somehow got stuck talking to Percy and no one would interrupt them. It turns out Mrs. Weasley made sweater for all of her sons, and for me too. Mine has a big M._

_Anyway, Reese freaked out when I told him that chocolate Frogs were made from real frogs, then calmed down when Ron said that wasn't true. He freaked out again when Ron said they mostly used toads because they were cheaper. And the police came by because of all the noise the fireworks were making. And some government people from the Department of Magic came by and made most of the neighbors forget what happened. That part was really cool._

"I had a wonderful time," Hagrid said as he shook Lois' hand. "Thank ye for makin' me stay. And thank ye fer the cookies." He turned to Malcolm. "I fergot. There's one more present to give out." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture, handing it to Malcolm. It was a picture of a snowy owl. "She's waitin' fer ye when ye get back to school. Couldn't bring 'er through the fireplace, ye know."

"An owl? That's great. Thanks, Hagrid."

_I almost hugged him for doing that. But if I did, Reese would have made some kind of remark._

Hagrid threw some floo powder into the fireplace and called out, "Hogwarts". He then ducked down and stepped into the flames.

"Finally," Hal said in exasperation. "That boy Percy is really annoying. It was like talking to my boss. Why didn't you boys help me out? I kept gesturing."

"It's my fault, Dad," Malcolm admitted. "I got your signals cross and told everyone you were having a great time."

_The great thing is that everyone knows it's a lie and no one will ever admit it._

Lois looked around the living room at the piles of wrapping paper, the leftover food and the rest of the mess. "Hal? Where's Dewey?"

" He went into the fireplace with the Weasley Twins. Don't worry. They'll send him back."


	21. Boxing Day

A/N: Once again I must thank Ouatic7 from finding a grammatical error, which I fixed. I assure you that I did read through the chapter once more before posting and I did catch one other error. Perhaps it was because I had just finished watching "Shawn of the Dead", that I noticed that Ron was happy to 'meat' Hal.

Thank you to Romantic2. I'm glad you think the story is getting better. But now I'm worried about the rest of the Chapters.

Sophiedb asked why I didn't simply replace the chapters that I changed, and several others had commented that I should have made two separate stories. The truth as to why I did it this way is simple to explain. I have a warped sense of humor. When I began writing this story I wasn't sure which path to take, so I started writing both versions. By the time I had everyone on the Hogwarts Express, I decided to use both versions. On reflection, it would have been more fun to post two chapters a day (one of each version), but I did not think of that until five seconds ago when I was typing this response. C'est la vie.

My thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. And I would like to note that I still haven't broken one of my New Year's Resolutions, "to enjoy life to the fullest." I'll break that one tomorrow when I go back to work.

Chapter Twenty One: Boxing Day

The fireplace flared and Hermione Granger stepped out of the fireplace. She had a backpack filled with gifts and was holding a plate of Christmas cookies.

"Great. Food." Reese walked by and grabbed a couple of cookies.

"Hello, I'm . . ." Hermione said as Reese disappeared into the kitchen.

"Where'd you get those?" Hal asked and then walked out of the kitchen.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger . . ."

"I didn't know it was time for girl scout cookies already?"

"I'm not . . ."

Hal reached into his pocket. "You're lucky. We had a big party yesterday and there's almost no food in the house. We'll take two boxes. Do you have any of those thin mints?"

"No," Hermione said carefully. "I brought these . . ." She held up the plate of cookies.

"Oh, samples. Well, here's ten bucks for the plate. Come back when you have the boxes."

"Excuse me, Sir . . ."

"Oh, OK. Put me down for the two more boxes. But I'm not paying for them until they get here."

"Does Malcolm live here?" Hermione asked in frustration.

"I'm not buying more cookies just because you know Malcolm."

"I'M NOT SELLING ANY COOKIES. I'M A FRIEND OF MALCOLM'S. FROM SCHOOL."

"In that case . . ." Hal grabbed the ten-dollar bill out of her hand and headed toward the kitchen with the cookies. "MALCOLM."

"I'm right here, Dad. Hi, Hermione."

"Malcolm, was that your father?"

"Yeah, would you like to meet my mom?"

"I'm not sure. Didn't you tell anyone I was coming? That man took my cookie plate, and that boy before him, I can only assume it was your brother, actually saw me come out of the fireplace and all he did was steal some of the cookies. That is not normal."

The fireplace flared again and Dewey stepped out. "I didn't do it. Those people at your school are going to lie to you." Dewey looked up at Hermione. "Hi."

Hermione looked down at the young boy. "The cookies are in the kitchen."

"Thanks." Dewey ran off. "Hi, Ron."

"Hi, Dewey. HERMIONE, you made it. Come into the kitchen and have some Christmas cookies. Malcolm's dad bought them from some girl scout."

Hermione turned to Malcolm. "I think I understand. All of you suffer from some form of insanity. And it's contagious."

"Jeezel, now you're acting like Ron."

Ron snickered. "I was coming to get Malcolm. Do you want to join us in the yard? Francis is showing me how to shoot hoops."

"Is he using a big enough rifle?" Hermione said snidely.

"He's showing him how to play Basketball," Malcolm said testily.

"After five minutes with your family I wasn't sure. And Malcolm, do you remember all those stories you told me about your family? I now believe them."

"All of them?" Malcolm asked as they walked out of the house and into the yard.

"Even that horrible story about the car."

Francis looked up as he heard Hermione's last line. "Malcolm, you told her about that? Look, girl, I don't know who you are but it wasn't even our car."

"Hermione Granger. And Malcolm told me."

"So, Hermione, are you really a witch? You actually seem nice."

"Thank you," Hermione said in surprise. "Do you know many witches?"

"Only my mom," Francis answered with a smirk.

"Is your mother capable of doing magic?"

"No."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Then why did you say . . . OH." She blushed as she understood.

"Malcolm's mom is really nice," Ron assured her. "She even invited my brothers for Christmas breakfast."

"That explains the matching jumpers."

"Mum made them. I think there's one for you under the tree. Unless Dewey opened it again."

Lois came out into the yard, and smiled when she saw Hermione. "So, I finally get to meet Malcolm's little girlfriend."

Hermione smiled shyly. "We're only friends. We don't fancy each other. Not really."

"Not really? And how did the two of you end up as only friends."

"There was this troll," Ron said then stopped.

_It's that mom thing. Ron said that before he even knew he was talking. I'd have done the same thing but I have more experience. I think I'm building up an immunity._

"Ron got rid of it before it could do any harm," Hermione said quickly, "but it did give us a fright. I guess we're friends because of a shared, um, embarrassment."

"Yeah," Malcolm agreed, "and we also study together. Hermione's really smart."

"And I brought these." Hermione pulled off her backpack and reached inside. She handed Lois a small package. "This is from my parents for you and your husband."

"Why, thank you Hermione." She opened the box. "Is this a desert?"

"It's a Figgy Pudding. Mum thought you might like to try it. It's a tradition in England, at least in our family."

With another thank you, Lois went back into the house to find Hal. Meanwhile, Hermione reached into her pack and gave Ron a gift.

"Chocolate Frogs," Ron exclaimed as he smelled the package. "Hermione, you're the best."

"And Malcolm, this is for you."

"It's a book," Malcolm said accurately.

Hermione smirked. "I think I've found a book you will actually read."

Curious, Malcolm tore off the wrapping paper and stared. Hermione was right. This was a book he would read. Many Times.

"Quidditch Through The Ages," Francis read over his shoulder. "I'd like to read that, too. It sounds like an interesting game."

"Thanks, Hermione. This is a really great gift. It's a lot better than what I got you."

"I know, Malcolm. You have no idea what to buy for a girl."

_You know, that's exactly what my mom said._

Malcolm led everyone inside and to the Christmas tree, pulling out a large fluffy package. "A special gift from Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione laughed as she opened the gift. It wasn't a sweater, but a large wooly scarf in Gryffindor colors. She fell in love with it at once.

"And this is from Ron."

Hermione opened up the box to see some sugar mice. She thanked Ron in such a way that Ron felt he had made an excellent choice. She then smiled as Malcolm handed her his gift. It was a book. She unwrapped it carefully and read the title with a sense of disbelief. "Um, thank you. I'll, um, definitely read this book as well, um, when I get the chance." She quickly slipped the book into her backpack but Ron asked her what it was. She slowly pulled it out and showed him.

"Malcolm," Ron asked in disbelief, "Is that really the book you gave here."

Malcolm frowned. "It was supposed to be for the family. All those Great American Recipes."

"Recipes?" Hermione asked. "By professional wrestlers?"

"What?"

Hermione showed him the book. Professional Wrestling: A to Z.

"That's supposed to be Reese's gift. I must have mixed up the name tags." Malcolm looked at his friends in confusion. "Why didn't Reese tell me I gave him the wrong gift? He should have told everyone what a jerk I was for giving him a cookbook."

* * *

Hermione was ecstatic. After two hours of playing basketball she finally made a basket. Not that she was that bad a player. She had Francis as a partner and he tended to hog the ball. In addition, Ron was tall enough to block most of the shoots she tried to make. As thought it was a signal, the four took a break in playing.

"Are you thirsty?" Malcolm asked. "I get some sodas."

"I'd love something to drink," Hermione told him.

"Same here," Ron answered as he wiped his brow.

"Drinks all around, Master Malcolm," Francis called out.

Malcolm opened the back door to the kitchen. "Mom, it smells great in here." He looked around but only saw Reese. "Reese, where's Mom?"

"I chased her out. She kept getting in the way. What do you want?"

"I'm just getting some sodas."

"Don't slam the refrigerator door. I don't want the cake to fall."

Malcolm stared as he realized what his brother was doing. Reese had the cookbook open in front of him while he sliced vegetables for a salad. Three different pots were on the stove.

"Reese, are you cooking?"

"Yeah. This book is great. You must be smart, Malcolm. When I saw what you gave me I thought it was a joke but when I started reading . . ." Reese looked up with a wide smile. "I'm gonna ask mom if I can make breakfast tomorrow. They have a recipe in here for sourdough pancakes."

_Wow. I just found out two things I didn't know. Reese can cook, and Reese can read. I just don't know if those are good things._

Malcolm went back into the yard carrying four cans of cola. Hermione smiled as he handed her a can. "I love the smells coming from your kitchen. Your mother must be a great cook."

"Hermione, you know that book on wrestling I gave you by mistake?"

"Yes?"

"It IS your Christmas present."

* * *

"Thank you for having me," Hermione said to Lois and Hal.

"It was fun," Hal said, "and we're sorry about the cookies."

Reese grabbed her hand before Hermione could leave. "Do you have to go? I mean, I've never met a girl like you before. I mean, how many girls are there who like cooking AND wrestling. If you ever want a boyfriend . . ."

_I don't believe it. Reese is blushing._

"Mum says I'm too young. But I won't forget what you said." Hermione pulled her hand away. "I really have to go."

A minute later, the fireplace flared and Hermione was gone. Reese stared wistfully at the fire for a few minutes, then went back to the kitchen and began cleaning up.

_Yeah, he insisted. He wants everything cleaned properly. Mom's not sure what's going on but Dad said, "Hey, he's a great cook. Just go with it while it lasts."_

Malcolm joined Ron on the couch. "That was the best Christmas dinner I ever had." He saw his mom glaring at him, and quickly added, "Reese didn't try to start any trouble even once."

_That was close._

"And he's a great cook," Ron replied. "He's better than my mum." Malcolm kicked his leg. "Oh. It must run in the family."

_That was real close. But mom even smiled at that last line. If Reese is going to do all the cooking, and Mom's going to keep getting mad about it, I'm going back to school early._

The two boys watched as Hal walked over to Lois and whispered something into her ear. Suddenly she stood up and both walked into their bedroom and closed the door. A moment later, the radio was turned up to full volume.

Malcolm turned to Ron to give an explanation and Ron laughed. "MY parents had SEVEN children. I think I know what's going on. Could you ask your brother if there's any cake left?"


	22. The Mirror of Erised

A/N: I want to thank Raziel Tepes for correcting me on another spelling error, and for wishing me a Harry New Year. And to answer Romantic2's question, yes. Ron might agree, thinking about butterbeer, and Malcolm would agree, knowing it's not allowed. They might not like it, but they would be willing to give it a try. Francis, however, has strange morals. He would never give any of his brothers, or their friends, real beer. Unless his mother specifically told him not to.

Chapter Twenty Two: The Mirror of Erised

_I just want you to know. It wasn't Mom. It wasn't Reese. And it definitely wasn't Dewey. Actually, it was Dewey. He said that he saw a Christmas tree in the common room and I had some presents under there. Ron wanted to go back early anyway. It seems that living with muggles was enough for one week but he didn't want to get used to it. Anyway, Mom thought it was a good idea that we go back directly to Hogwarts. And so we're back._

"Malcolm, I didn't want to say anything, but your family scares me."

"What's to be scared of?"

"Reese thinks it's fun to hit people. Your Mum yells all the time. Your brother, Dewey, is . . . I'm not sure, but he's scary."

"But Francis is pretty cool."

"I thought so until your parents went out that night and he invited us up to the roof."

"You're afraid of heights?"

"MALCOLM! The four of you were using a slingshot to shoot fruit at people. The grapes were funny. And the peaches, I guess. But that was a big slingshot."

"We've made bigger."

"That's not the point. The police came by after your brother launched that watermelon."

"They couldn't prove anything?"

_Really. We can take everything down and hide it in less than a minute. I know they suspect us, but they suspect us of everything. Half the times they come by, they say they're only checking._

Ron was wide-eyed at that last remark. "Didn't it ever occur to you that it might be wrong?"

Malcolm paused. "No. Anyway, Dewey said we had presents that were still here. Let's check it out."

Malcolm led the way to the tree and looked underneath. There was only one package and it was addressed to him. He picked it up and sat down on a nearby chair to open it.

"It's a cloak. This stuff feels weird. Like it's made of water."

"Try it on," Ron suggested. When Malcolm put the cloak on, Ron gasped. "I know what that is. It's an invisibility cloak."

Malcolm's eyes lit up. "I . . . I can't see myself. Wait a minute." Malcolm threw the cloak over his head. "I can see though the cloak. Can you see me at all?"

"Not even a shadow."

Malcolm took off the cloak, amazed at such a gift. "Who gave it to me?" He looked in the packaging and found a note. "Your father left this in my care. I thought you could find a good use for it."

Ron read it from over his shoulder. "There's no name."

_My father?_

Malcolm stared silently at the note. "Maybe I should put this away for now."

Now, Ron stared in surprise. Malcolm had received the perfect gift for him to cause a great amount of trouble, but he didn't want to use it. "I thought you'd want to try it out by sneaking somewhere."

"Maybe later," Malcolm said without frowning. "I want to check out another present. The owl Hagrid gave me."

"I'll muck about with Fred and George until you get back."

"Okay."

Malcolm made his way to the owlery and was surprised when a snowy owl immediately flew to him. "You must be Hagrid's gift." The owl nipped playfully at his hand when he went to pet her. He spent the better part of an hour fawning over the bird and left with reluctance when he realized it was almost time for dinner.

_Dang the time difference. It should be breakfast according to my stomach. I should've ate before I came back._

On the way back, Malcolm found a use for his new cloak, except that he didn't have it with him. He almost walked in on Snape and Quirrell having an argument. The only part he actually heard was Snape saying, "You should choose carefully which side you're on." To avoid being seen, Malcolm slipped into a nearby room and quietly closed the door behind him.

_Good. No dogs. Only a mirror. In fact, there's nothing else in this room._

Malcolm walked over to the mirror. It was tall and had an ornate frame with strange words at the top. He looked in the mirror and smiled. His reflection smiled back at him. Then he stared. His reflection stared back at him as a man and a woman appeared on either side of him. Malcolm looked behind him but he was still alone. The two adults in the mirror smiled at him.

The man took his hand and lifted up some of Malcolm's hair, looking amused. The woman also seemed to laugh. Malcolm felt his own head, but no hand was there. No one was touching him. Only his reflection. He looked closer at the two figures. The woman had green eyes. The same color as his. And the man. The man had black hair. He also wore glasses. And there was an eerie similarity between his features and Malcolm's.

"Are you my mom and dad?"

The two figures in the mirror nodded. Malcolm smiled. The woman put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Malcolm put his hand on his own shoulder. His reflection followed him and put his hand on his mother's hand. Malcolm's father put his hand out, and rested it on Malcolm's.

_I see it, but I don't feel their hands. They're not really here_.

Malcolm began to cry.

"Malcolm."

The boy turned around.

"Professor Dumbledore."

"We missed you at supper. Ronald told me you went to the owlery. When you weren't there, I thought I would look in here."

"How long have I been here?"

"Hours. It is time for you to be in bed."

"Hours?" Malcolm turned around again to look at the mirror. "I saw my parents. In the reflection. You know, the ones that died."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "That is curious. I would have thought, considering that you have a family . . ."

"I never knew anything about them. I didn't even know what they looked like. What kind of mirror is this?"

Dumbledore could see the sad eyes in Malcolm's reflection. He walked up to Malcolm and put a hand on his shoulder. In the reflection, Malcolm saw him standing between his parents. His parents looked at Dumbledore with familiarity and trust.

"It's called the Mirror of Erised. It does nothing more than show us our deepest, darkest desires."

Malcolm nodded. "That explains it. Ever since I found out I was adopted, I wanted to know where I came from, what my . . . Mom and Dad . . . were like. It isn't real then. It's just a reflection." He looked at his mother and father one last time. "Goodbye."

"Would you like something to eat?" Dumbledore asked as he led Malcolm away.

"Yeah. I'm starving." Malcolm watched as Dumbledore closed the door behind them. "Professor, is that mirror always there?"

"It's only there for a while. In fact, we are moving it tomorrow."

"Because of me?"

"Because of you? No, my boy. We have other uses for it. In fact, had you not come back early, you would never have come across it." To change the subject, Dumbledore asked, "Did you like Hagrid's present?"

"The owl? Yeah, she's great. I think she even likes me."

"What did you name her?"

"I haven't thought of a name yet . . . Yes, I have. Do you think my mom would mind if I called her Lily?"

Dumbledore paused as he understood which mother Malcolm was referring to. "I think your mother would be flattered." He pointed toward the owlery. "Did you want to tell someone, first?"

Malcolm smiled. "Thanks. I would. And I know I shouldn't say this but with everything that's happened today it makes me feel kinda funny."

"You're being so serious, Malcolm. I don't know what to say."

Malcolm tried to smirk. "You're supposed to say I look kinda funny."

Albus chuckled. "I apologize. I am used to being the straight man." He smiled when Malcolm managed to laugh.

* * *

"She's beautiful," Hermione said when Malcolm showed her his owl. "What's her name?"

"Lily?"

"What's the joke?" Hermione noticed that Malcolm's eyes seemed to dim for a brief moment.

"Because she's white as a Lily? Get it?"

"Shouldn't that be white as snow?"

"Too obvious," Malcolm said cheerfully. "I've been reading up on how to take care of her."

"Have you read up on anything else?" Hermione hinted.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"I was referring to Nicholas Flamel."

"Albus Dumbledore, with his partner Nicholas Flamel, discovered the twelve uses of dragons' blood. It's on the back of every Chocolate Frog (TM) Wizard Card."

"And you discovered this when?"

"When Dewey decided to read out loud the backs of every card he got from every chocolate frog he ate on Christmas. Except I think he ate one of the cards, too. Somebody named Agrippa. Funny thing, Ron took that really hard."


	23. A Whirlwind of Events

Chapter Twenty Three: A Whirlwind of Events

_Let's get started by talking about paranoia. Everyone is paranoid. We had a Quidditch game last month, and Snape decided to referee. We were all scared that he was going to fix the game against us, or take another shot at me, so Oliver Wood decided I should win the game quickly. Like that was going to happen._

"Just catch the snitch as soon as the whistle blows," Oliver said as Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"Right. When the whistle blows, I'll just swing my arm out and grab the snitch."

"Good plan," Oliver said with a grin. "There's the whistle."

"And I'm swinging my arm," Malcolm yelled as he swung his arm out as though to catch something. As he closed his fist on empty air, something gold flashed by and slapped into his palm. Malcolm held up the snitch in disbelief.

"I told you it was a good plan," Oliver said. He then fell off his broom from laughing too hard.

_He was still laughing when they brought him to the infirmary. So, anyway, Snape didn't get the chance to kill me, and Hermione finally found the reference she was looking for._

"It was here all the time," Hermione said as she brought the large book into the common room. "I took this book out for some light reading weeks ago."

"You call that 'light' reading?" Ron asked.

"Is that "Wizards throughout History"?" Malcolm asked. "I've been wanting to read that book for two months. Somebody borrowed it from the library and never returned it."

"I wasn't finished with it," Hermione scowled. "After all, it is a large book."

"Have you tried speed reading," Malcolm said poignantly.

"Is this going to be another one of your stupid arguments?" Ron asked. "Hermione, what did you find out?"

"It says here," Hermione told them, "that Nicholas Flamel is the only known person to possess the Philosopher's Stone. That the stone . . ."

"It doesn't say that," Malcolm pointed out. "I can see where you're reading from. It clearly says the Sorcerer's Stone."

Ron frowned and leaned over to see the passage in the book. "I read Philosopher's Stone. I know. You must be reading it in American, Malcolm."

"Why would that make any difference?"

Hermione smiled in understanding. "Because we use words differently. Remember last Autumn. I told you I had a jumper in the closet and you said he mustn't be very bright, he should be on the window ledge."

_Yeah, she was talking about her sweater._

"I get it," Malcolm said. "Like here. It says he turned 665 last year, but this book is at least thirty years old. Wizard books must automatically update themselves to keep current."

Ron looked confused. "Don't muggle books do that?"

_Okay, Hermione and I didn't know that. So we went to confront Hagrid. To make a long story short, Ron ended up in the infirmary after being bitten by a baby dragon. Hermione, Neville and I ended up carrying that dragon all the way to the top of the Astronomy Tower so that friends of Charlie Weasley could carry him off to a dragon preserve. I don't even want to explain how all of that happened, but get this. Malfoy found out what we were doing and tried to stop us. As it turned out, McGonagall found Malfoy before Malfoy spotted us. Even though we were only ten feet away. It pays to have an invisibility cloak._

"Sssh," Malcolm warned as Hermione started to laugh. Malfoy kept yelling "They're here. I know it." And McGonagall kept telling him to stop yelling.

The three, under the invisibility cloak, inched their way from the Professor to a nearby hallway, and had almost made it when Hermione suddenly gasped. She took another gasp of air. Then she sneezed. Looking at Malcolm, she felt no relief that he had the same horrified look that she had.

"Who's there?" McGonagall said angrily.

Malcolm motioned for the other two to move closer to the hallway. Before either could ask him, he slipped out from under the cloak. Now visible, he stepped from behind the corner as though that was where he was hiding.

"It's me, Professor."

"Malcolm, what is the meaning of this? Are you the reason this boy keeps going on about a dragon?"

Malcolm looked down at the floor. "Yes, Ma'am. I thought it would be fun to run him around, then let him get caught. I didn't plan on sneezing, though."

_That was bad. Malfoy got off with a slap on the wrist, twenty house points. But McGonagall went ballistic on me. I ended up losing a hundred points, plus another detention. And this one was with . . . Hagrid?_

"Yer such a bright lad, Malcolm," Hagrid said, after Argus Filch dropped the boy off at the hut. "Why'd ye do somethin' stupid like teasin' Malfoy?"

"It was fun," Malcolm said with a smile.

Argus Filch groaned as he headed back to the school. "Oh, how I miss the old days. Chain 'em up to the walls and leave 'em for a few days."

Both Hagrid and Malcolm watched as Filch walked back to the castle. Once Filch was far enough away, Hagrid wiped his brow. "Tha' man makes me nervous. Ye know, his cat follows me all the time when I'm up at the school." He turned with a grin to Malcolm. "I was afraid to ask. Did ye have any problems, besides gettin' caught?"

"Nope." Malcolm grinned. "And I wouldn't even have been caught if Hermione hadn't sneezed. " Malcolm paused as Hagrid gave him a funny look. "What?"

"That was a nice thing ye did, coverin' fer yer friends. Yer parents would ha' been proud. Both sets of 'em." Hagrid cleared his throat. "Well, ye ready for a trek. We're goin' into the forest."

"Cool. I'm not allowed in the forest. Especially at night."

"Yeah. There's something been killing the unicorns. Dumbledore wants me to check it out. Another pair of eyes don't hurt."

"What hunts unicorns?" Malcolm asked nervously.

"Nothin'," Hagrid said. "Tha's why we're checkin' it out."

Malcolm followed after the giant, holding a lantern in one hand and Fang's leash in the other. It was no relief that Malcolm's task was to keep Fang from running away. "Ye should know, Malcolm. The dog's a bloody coward. He's probably more scared than you are."

"Not any more."

"Tha's what I like about ye. Ye never lose yer sense of humor."

_Does he really think I was joking?_

After some time, Hagrid knelt down. He put his fingers into a pool of liquid. "This is unicorn's blood, Malcolm. Fresh. This one may still be alive."

They followed the trail of blood for almost a mile, then came into a clearing. The unicorn was there. A shadowy figure was also there. Feeding on the wound. Hagrid pulled a crossbow from under his coat and aimed it. As the bolt was shot, the figure floated into the darkness of the trees. Hagrid fitted a new bolt into the crossbow, then motioned for Malcolm to stay where he was. The boy watched, his nervousness increasing, as Hagrid approached the unicorn.

Suddenly, Malcolm winced. His scar shot a searing pain into his head. Behind his eyes he could see a green flash. His ears seemed to hear a woman scream. His body jerked and he fell backwards.

Fang had let out a loud yelp as the figure suddenly appeared in front of it. It fled, pulling Malcolm to the ground as the boy held on to the leash. Regardless of the weight, the dog ran through the trees. Malcolm was dragged down the path, buffeted by roots and fallen branches. Then the leash broke.

Malcolm sat up, holding his forehead. Despite all the cuts and bruises, the scar was still hurting him more. He forced his eyes open, and the green flashes disappeared. The lady stopped screaming. The shadow figure was above him.

"Away," a voice shouted. The figure fled. Moments later, from behind him, a horse jumped over Malcolm and chased the figure. Satisfied that they were now alone the horse and rider turned back and faced Malcolm.

"It is gone, human child. Are you injured badly?"

As the pain faded, Malcolm took a close look at the man and his horse and gaped at what he saw. The man was the horse. He was looking at a Centaur.

"I'll live," Malcolm said slowly. "Are you real?"

The Centaur smiled. "I am quite real, Harry . . . I forget myself. You have changed you form of address. I should have said Malcolm. You had a close call, Malcolm. Mars is exceptionally bright tonight."

"What was that thing?"

The Centaur smiled sadly. "Do you not know, young Malcolm? The creature fed on Unicorn blood. The blood of a creature of pure goodness. It will keep him alive, but it will be a cursed life, a half life." The Centaur paused. "Do you know anyone who would be willing to risk such a thing?"

"That was . . ."

The Centaur nodded. "He whom men do not name." He turned as he heard footsteps. "Your charge is here, Hagrid. He is safe."

The giant came running up to Malcolm. He knelt to see if the boy was injured. Assured there were no serious problems, he turned to the Centaur. "Thank you, Firenze."

"You are welcome, Hagrid. Take the boy from the forest as quickly as you can. He is not safe tonight. Foul things hunt."

Hagrid expressed little surprise at the warning. "If you think it's tha' serious I'll carry him out, righ' now."

"It is," Firenze told him. "Had you not been near, I believe I would have carried him myself. Go quickly. I will make sure that you are not followed."

Malcolm grunted as Hagrid picked him up. The giant ran swiftly and with surprising smoothness and the boy quickly fell into a sleep of exhaustion.

_And I woke up in the infirmary with everyone laughing at me again. And what can I say? I told them that Hagrid's dog spooked and I was dragged for over a mile. I mean, it is the truth. I just didn't tell everyone why Fang was spooked. I don't want anyone to know. I was scared._

"Malcolm, it's me, Fred."

Malcolm opened his eyes. Fred and George were standing over his bed. Madame Pomfrey was in the background, eyeing them warily.

"Hey, guys."

"Hagrid told Ron told what happened. Ron told us. We told a few other people."

"About being dragged by Fang?"

"No, about why you were dragged by Fang."

_I knew it. Now everyone will call me crazy._

"Did they have a good laugh?"

"More like a good fright," George told him. "It seems that no one is mad at you anymore for losing all those points. They think you went a little crazy from all the stress."

Fred grinned. "Better crazy than stupid."

"Thanks," Malcolm said without humor.

"You'll thank us later. We did some snooping around and you know what we found out?"

"I really am crazy?"

"That, too." Fred laughed. "But we wanted to tell you something about You-Know-Who."

George smirked. "It seems he's not the fearless monster everyone thinks he is."

"He's afraid of something. Of somebody."

"Our own Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore."

"So don't worry. Just stay in the castle. You'll be perfectly safe."

Malcolm smiled. "That's good to know."

Fred leaned down to whisper. "We'll be watching out for you, Malcolm. You have a lot of friends who will help."

"Why? I haven't been much help to anybody."

George smirked. "You kept the two of us entertained. That has to be worth something."

_It's weird, but Fred and George actually cheered me up. It does help knowing that I can count on other people. Especially Ron and Hermione._

"Thanks, guys."

Fred and George gave him identical grins. "That's what friends are for."


	24. Into the Abyss

Chapter Twenty Four: Into the Abyss

Hermione looked up as Malcolm came into the common room. "What happened?"

"It's my scar. It keeps hurting. I'm just happy that I managed to get through that last exam."

"Is that why you took so long?" Hermione couldn't help grinning. "What's Ron's excuse?"

"It's not funny. My scar hurt before, but never like this. It's constant. At least it's not getting any worse." Malcolm sat down next to Hermione. "Ron went off to find Professor Dumbledore. On our way back we realized something."

"About the stone?"

"About Fluffy. Thanks to us, everyone knows how to get past him. Remember Hagrid's remark. About how singing stirs him up but he'll calm down if you just play something."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "He was upset over Fluffy getting excited. But I don't remember him saying that. I know Seamus Finnigan mentioned that he heard . . ."

"Yeah, and if he heard, then others heard. Like Snape."

Ron walked in and quickly joined his friends. "I ran into McGonagall. I told her I was looking for Dumbledore, and then I made the mistake of telling her why. That we knew about the Philosopher's Stone."

_It's called the Sorcerer's Stone, but I'm tired of correcting them._

"What did she say?"

"That we're too nosey. That she's not afraid of taking house points away from us. That if we don't . . ."

"We get the picture," Hermione said. "But what about Dumbledore?"

"He's left. He had to go to the Ministry for some reason. He received an important owl."

Hermione scowled. "I bet Snape planned this. We have to stop him."

"How?" Malcolm asked. "McGonagall's on to us. And Snape would love to catch us following him."

"We could watch the third floor corridor," Ron suggested. "They we could catch him in the act."

Hermione shook her head. "And he could catch us. I'm sure he'd love an excuse to expel all of us."

Malcolm smiled. "We can have someone else watch, and she can let us know. Then we can follow him."

"Brilliant," Ron remarked. "But you said she. Who is this girl?"

"You've met her. Her name's Lily."

The three went to the Owlery without any problem. When they ran into McGonagall, Malcolm held up a parchment. He was sending a letter to his family, to let them know that he finished his exams.

_And when she mentioned Ron's earlier remarks, I even told her we trusted her judgement. We were just worried. I must be getting good. She believed me._

Malcolm entered the Owlery, his eyes lighting up when he spied the Snowy Owl that Hagrid had given him. Hermione and Ron waited patiently as he petted the owl and cooed over her. Then Malcolm explained what he wanted her to do, and Lily nipped at his ear to let him know she understood. The owl flew out the open window and settled unnoticed on a windowsill on the third floor.

"She's very smart," Hermione noted, and Malcolm smiled at the comment.

"My mom said the same thing. She even likes the name I gave her."

* * *

An owl hooted in Malcolm's dorm room.

"Lily?" Malcolm whispered and received another hoot in response. "Thanks. I'll have something for you tomorrow." Lily ruffled her feathers at him and flew out the window.

"Ron," Malcolm whispered, and woke his friend. Ron nodded, and both dressed quickly. They slipped out of the dorm and down to the common room. Hermione was there, slumped over a book. She awoke when she heard them coming down the stairs.

"He went to the third floor?"

Malcolm nodded. "We'll have to hurry. I've got my invisibility cloak just in case, but I don't think we should use it unless we have to."

"Good thinking," Hermione said. "Let's go."

"No," Neville Longbottom said from behind.

Ron turned around. "Neville, don't try and stop us."

"You're sneaking out again. You could get into trouble."

"We have to, Neville," Malcolm told him.

"I'm not stupid, you know." Neville tried to look brave. "I know what you're doing." He pulled out a small flute. "I know you forgot about getting past the dog."

Malcolm grinned. "Neville, you are the most amazing person in the world."

_Do you believe this guy? He's afraid of almost everything. He can barely cast any spell. And he's willing to take a chance like this._

The four made their way to the third floor. They entered the corridor and stopped. The dog was there, and a harp. Malcolm felt a tinge of anger that the trapdoor was open, and that Snape had already made his way through. He also felt a tinge of fear that the dog was growling at them. Before he could say something, a soft note hit the air. Neville was playing the flute. It wasn't a melody. But he was playing the notes clearly as he went up and down the scale. The dog, Fluffy, grinned at the sound and settled down. Sooner than they expected, Fluffy was asleep.

Malcolm set his cloak next to Neville, pantomiming that he should use it if need be. Neville nodded in acknowledgment, and the others crept past the dog to the open trapdoor. There were no handholds, and it was so dark that he couldn't see anything. He would have to take a chance. He showed Ron and Hermione his crossed fingers and jumped into the opening.

"I hit something soft," Malcolm called. "It's safe to jump."

Ron came down next and landed with a thud, Hermione shortly followed. Above them, they heard the faint sound of the flute. Almost at once the sound ended. It was followed by a short slamming noise and a dog's growling.

"Neville's safe," Hermione said appreciatively. "It's a good thing you left him your cloak."

"Yeah," Ron added. "He can hide from Filch. Unless he actually remembers the password this time."

"So where are we," Hermione asked.

"I'll make a light," Malcolm offered.

"Make it a bright one," Ron suggested.

"Sure. LUMOS SOLARIS"

As the bright light filled the room they were in, they saw they were standing in the middle of a giant plant. All three noticed that the plant had already wrapped tendrils around their legs without any of them realizing it. However, the bright light from Malcolm's wand was forcing the plant to shrink away from them and release them in the process. Without hesitation, they ran to the safety of the doorway, opened it and stepped into the next chamber.

"Malcolm," Hermione said in relief. "Your middle name has to be luck."

"Ron did ask for a bright light."

_That plant was scary. Hermione said it was called Devil's Snare. But this next room was a big chamber filled with flying keys. It took us a while, but by using the broomsticks together, we trapped the right key. I told Hermione that it was like a computer game. Each rooms has its different task. Hermione walked into the next room and said I was right. Then she asked me if I could play chess._

"This is my task," Ron said happily as he looked at the large chessboard. "If there's one thing I know best, it's wizards' chess."

He had Malcolm take the bishop's place, and Hermione take the rook's place. Ron became the knight, his favorite piece. He called out the moves and everything was going well until . . .

_What's that crazy jerk doing?_

"Ron," Malcolm said with concern.

"You see it? Malcolm, after I sacrifice myself, Check the king."

Hermione was horrified. "Ron, don't."

"'Mione, Do You Want To Stop Him? This is the only way."

_He did it. The Queen literally threw him off the chessboard. I knew he was hurt, but he told us to keep going._

As Malcolm and Hermione walked to the next chamber, he turned to her. "Hermione, I'm scared."

Hermione actually sighed in relief. "Thank you. I thought it was only me. I've been trying to act brave but . . . I never thought of any of us getting hurt."

Malcolm smiled. "Then let's get this over with." He opened the next door and the smell hit them. It was a troll, unconscious. Neither of them said anything but quickly went to the next chamber.

Flames blocked the doorway behind them and the doorway in front of them. In the middle of the room was a table with seven bottles of various sizes. And a parchment.

"Nice poem," Malcolm said as he read the clues. "Okay, two are poison, and three might as well be. Have you ever tasted nettle wine?"

Hermione snorted. "Well, we need to find the one bottle with the potion to let us go forward."

"Well, it can't be the bottles at either end. That leaves five."

"And it can't be these two bottles," Hermione said. "This should be the one that we can use to go back and that makes . . ."

". . . this one the potion to go forward."

"No, it's the small bottle next to it. You didn't read the last clue."

Malcolm smirked. "Show-off."

"And you thought YOU knew everything."

"I know one thing," Malcolm said smugly. "There's only enough in this bottle for one person." He and Hermione looked at each other briefly without saying anything.

_Dang. It's going to be me._

"Hermione, take this potion, the one that lets you go back. Use the brooms to get Ron out of here, then get help. I'm going to need it."

Hermione gave Malcolm a strange look. One he had never seen before. He found out later it was admiration. Then she ruined the moment.

"What if he isn't alone? What if Voldemort's with him?"

"Then you can go and I'll help Ron." When Hermione smirked, Malcolm added, "you said it yourself. Luck is my middle name. I'll tell you at breakfast what happened."

Before his fear could take hold of him, Malcolm drank the potion and walked through the wall of flame.

* * *

"Professor Quirrell?"

The DADA Professor was standing in the middle of the room, in front of the Mirror of Erised. He turned around in mild surprise when he heard Malcolm's voice.

"It would be you," he said without any hint of a stutter.

Malcolm couldn't mask his surprise. "It was you all along. All that stuff about being frightened was just an act."

Quirrell smirked. "And all this time you thought it was Snape. Didn't you?"

"But . . . Hermione saw him jinxing my broom?"

"That was me, you little idiot. Snape was actually trying to save you by muttering the counter curse. And despite that I still almost succeeded." The Professor smiled insincerely. "Maybe it's for the best, after all. Do you know what's inside this mirror?"

"Yeah. The Sorcerer's Stone."

Quirrell laughed, but it wasn't a friendly laugh. "I'll forgive you for that mistake. It must be because you're American. It is the Philosopher's Stone."

"I read it in a book. It said the Sorcerer's . . ."

"MALCOLM! That is not the point. The point is that it's inside the mirror." Quirrell glared at the boy. "There is something about you, Malcolm, that reminds me of another American I met. He was so obnoxious I changed my first name because it was the same as his."

"You know Uncle Harry? That's why Mom changed my name."

Quirrell rolled his eyes. "The two of you would be related."

"Only by marriage," Malcolm answered. "He married my mom's sister."

"We should be thankful for small favors." Quirrell's voice became friendly. "Now that you're here, why don't you take a look. Maybe you can figure out how to get the stone. I would have no problem sharing it. Think about it. You could live as long as you wanted, and you would have all the money you would ever need."

Malcolm walked up to the mirror and looked in. He saw himself holding the stone.

_The only way I'd want that stone is to keep it away from that jerk._

Malcolm's reflection smiled at him and put the stone in his pocket. At that moment, Malcolm felt a lump in his own pocket.

_Uh oh. How did that happen? If Quirrell finds out, I've got the stone he'll kill me._

_And that's not an exaggeration._

"What do you see, boy?"

"Uh, I see myself. I'm. Uh, holding the stone and smirking at myself. I think I think it's funny."

"He lies," a third voice said.

Malcolm looked around but didn't see anyone.

"I will talk to him, Quirrell."

"But, Master?"

"Reveal me."

Professor Quirrell removed his turban and turned around. Malcolm stepped back in fright as he saw a face looking at him.

"You know who I am." It was a statement.

_I wish Mom and Dad were here. What can I do?_

Malcolm pulled his eyes away from the figure of Voldemort. They chanced to look in the mirror. A man with black hair was motioning for him to be strong. The woman with green eyes gave him a look that spoke courage. Behind them stood Hal and Lois. His dad was clearly frightened but holding his ground. His mom simply looked at him. A look he had seen many times before.

_Yeah, I know what to do. It's what I have to do._

"You look like my Uncle Harry," Malcolm said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "But I have a higher opinion of him."

Voldemort's red eyes flared with anger. "He has the stone. Get it from him."

Malcolm began to run but Quirrell cast a spell. Malcolm's leg wobbled, refusing to hold him. He fell hard to the ground. Strong hands threw him onto his back and Quirrell was there.

"I'll do this the easy way," he sneered. He knelt down, his knee going hard into Malcolm's chest. His hands grabbed Malcolm's throat and began to squeeze.

The boy flailed his arms. He couldn't breathe. As black spots began to appear, Malcolm tried to push against Quirrell's face. As a final effort, it was weak and futile.

But Quirrell was screaming. His hands let go of Malcolm's throat. Somehow, they were burned and blistered, as was his face where Malcolm had touched him. He began to stand up but Malcolm lunged at him with strength that came from somewhere. Malcolm had grabbed his hair to hold on, but had to let go when the hair burst into flame.

Malcolm was struck one final blow and fell back to the floor of the chamber. The last thing he remembered hearing was Voldemort shouting, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" It was shouted loud enough to be heard over Quirrell's screams.

* * *

Malcolm opened his eyes to something shining above him. But the world was all a blur. He reached up with a great effort and discovered that the shining object was light reflected off the lenses of a pair of glasses. He slowly put them on, and the world sprang into focus.

"Good afternoon, Malcolm."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"The prodigal son awakens at last."

"What happened?"

"Don't you know? You were there." There was humor in the voice.

Malcolm frowned. Then he noticed he was wearing pajamas. "The Stone. Quirrell has the Stone!"

"The Stone is safe. There is no need to worry. Do you need more rest? I can come back later."

"No, I'm fine, really." Malcolm raised his head and noticed the large pile of candy on the table near the bed.

"Gifts from your admirers," Dumbledore told him.

"Everybody knows?"

Dumbledore sat down, and he and Malcolm had a long talk. About Professor Quirrell and Nicholas Flamel. About the destruction of the Stone and about why Professor Snape hates him. All in all, it left Malcolm feeling very much surprised.

"Then you knew?" Malcolm asked. "About Professor Quirrell and . . . Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's good, my boy. Never be afraid to say his name. And the answer is no. Had I known before, I could have saved all of us a great deal of trouble. I regret to say that Voldemort escaped, but he is in no condition to harm anyone for quite some time."

"And Quirrell?"

"Professor Quirrell, alas, did not survive his ordeal." Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Do you understand what happened, Malcolm?"

"I know he began to burn up once he touched me."

"It was the spell that your mother cast on you before she died. The one that gave you that scar."

"My mom did that?"

"Do you know how she was able to cast such a spell? She used very old magic, Malcolm. It's called love."

Dumbledore reached out his hand and brushed a tear from Malcolm's cheek. "Lily loved you very much."

"I saw them. In the mirror." The tears were running freely. "When Voldemort revealed himself, I wanted to know what my parents would want me to do."

"And you saw Lily and James." He saw Malcolm's nod and something else. "And Lois and Hal. You are doubly blessed, dear Malcolm. You have four parents, all of whom gave you love."

Albus brushed his hand against Malcolm's hair. "I think you do need some more rest. We'll talk again later."

Malcolm adjusted his glasses. "Professor, what happened to my contacts."

"It seems they were exposed to a great amount of heat. They were ruined but, amazingly, your eyes suffered no damage. Do you mind wearing the glasses? Your parents will have new lenses waiting for you. I made it a point to offer them the opportunity to inform them of what had happened."

"I never told them anything. I didn't want to scare them. Are they mad?"

_I know it. They're going to make me come home. Who cares that it's great here. After all, I did almost get myself killed._

"No, they are not. We'll talk again tomorrow, before the End-of-Term feast."

"Tomorrow?" Malcolm's surprise was muted by the fact that he was in the infirmary. "Thank you, Sir. Is there anything else I should know?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing that can't wait. Until tomorrow, Malcolm."


	25. Epilogue

A/N: This is it. The final chapter. I thank everyone for reading and reviewing. To Doctor of Writing, thank you for all your reviews. And thank you for confusing me with your change of name. I regret to add that there will be no followup to this story. It was never intended to be a series.

Thanks also to Raziel Tepes for catching my latest spelling errors. They are corrected. But I did leave Malcolm's spell against the Devil's Snare as it was. That was the spell, I seem to remember, from the first movie. I would have copied the book but I get nervous with the idea of Malcolm starting fires.

I should note (especially to Raziel Tepes) that there is another chapter after this one, but it is not part of this story. It deals with a girl named Wednesday.

Chapter Twenty Five: Epilogue

"Fifteen Minutes," Madam Pomfrey said. "And I mean it."

Ron and Hermione raced past her, but stopped when they saw Malcolm.

"Do I look that bad?"

"You look that different," Hermione told him.

Malcolm laughed and took off the glasses. "Is that better?"

Ron shook his head. "You still look different."

Malcolm put his glasses back on and noticed that Ron and Hermione were sharing grins. He gave them a look that begged the question, and Hermione went to Madam Pomfrey who conjured a hand mirror for her. She brought the mirror over to Malcolm.

"It's obvious no one told you. Maybe you should see for yourself."

Malcolm stared at his reflection in the mirror. The glasses did make him look different but that was not what caught his eye. His hair was black.

"My hair. It changed back to its original color."

"I like it," Hermione told him. "It makes you look . . . English."

"I was born here, you know."

"We'll have to work on your voice," Ron said cheerfully. "You need to get rid of that accent."

"I know," Malcolm answered. "It makes me sound like I'm from another country."

"That can wait until next year," Hermione told them. "We don't have much time left."

Malcolm nodded. "So tell me, did you guys have any problems getting out?"

"It took a while to wake Ron up, but once I did that it was no problem at all. And when we went to find Dumbledore, he was already on his way to help you. Malcolm, he seemed to know everything."

"He told me. He told me a lot of stuff, you know. About my parents."

"He didn't tell you about your hair."

Malcolm laughed. "He knew you guys were coming. He wanted to give you the fun of telling me."

Ron frowned. "I guess he didn't tell you about the Quidditch match."

"We lost."

"We were trounced. And we lost the house cup to you know who."

"Slytherin?" Malcolm asked, and Ron nodded.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "It has been fifteen minutes. You'll see him tomorrow at the End-of-Year Feast. Now out with you."

As they left, Malcolm lay back in his bed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come faster if he slept most of the day.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey kept Malcolm in the infirmary until the last minute. He managed to dress in record time and was out of the infirmary before she could change her mind.

_Great. Now I'll miss the start of the feast. No big deal. Slytherin won anyway._

"Malcolm," George said as he and Fred stepped up to greet him. "We are your official escort to the Great Hall."

"Did McGonagall make you come?"

Fred and George laughed. "Not likely. It was Dumbledore." "He didn't tell us, mind you." "It was what he did." "You know Slytherin won the Quidditch cup?" "And that they had the most points?" "But Dumbledore didn't put the banners up this year." The twins looked at him. "Malcolm, why do you suppose that is?"

Malcolm frowned. "If they won already . . ." Then he smiled. "Is Dumbledore giving out more points?"

Fred nodded. "That's my guess. Can't give house points if the student isn't there."

"Fred, how far behind are we?"

"148 points. How many points do you think Dumbledore will give you for defeating You-Know-Who?"

Malcolm grinned, and the three walked faster. They were the last students to enter the hall, and George whispered, "Usually the banners of the winning house are hung all over the place. See, there's nothing."

Malcolm took his place, a space saved for him between Ron and Hermione. Once he and the twins were settled into place, Dumbledore stood up.

"Another year has come and gone. And we are here to award the house cup to the house that had accumulated the most points over the past year. I know everyone is aware that as of right now Slytherin has the most points, but due to recent events, which most of you also know, there are still more house points to distribute. Because, unless there is an objection, this may change the results, I did not wish to give Slytherin House any false hopes.

"To Ronald Weasley, for his steadfast courage and the best game of chess that has been played in many a year, we award fifty points."

Malcolm was only the first to congratulate Ron, but everyone quieted again as Dumbledore began to speak again.

"As there are no objections. To Hermione Granger, for her brilliant use of logic and her dedication to her friends, we award fifty points."

Malcolm looked over to see Hermione blushing furiously. Then he and everyone else embarrassed her more by giving her the same treatment they gave Ron.

Everyone was counting the points when Dumbledore began again.

"There are no objections." He paused to discuss something with Professor Snape. Snape scowled but shook his head no. Dumbledore smiled and turned back to face the students. As there are no objections to this last award may I say something first. "The most difficult thing we have to face in life is our own fear. To overcome that takes all the courage that one can muster. And to do so, not to benefit oneself but for the greater good, is to be worthy of any award. Accordingly, we give Neville Longbottom fifty points."

Neville was more surprised than anyone.

_And he deserves it more than anyone._

It took a long while for the cheering to stop but, when it did, Malcolm looked up to see Gryffindor's banners hanging everywhere. Gryffindor had won the house cup. Then he paused in his happiness.

_What about me? Don't I get anything?_

"One last thing," Dumbledore said. "I could give more points, but that would not change anything. But one more person should be given note. Malcolm, will you please stand up?"

Malcolm stood up, and everyone who hadn't had a chance, stared at his change of features. A fact that he was very self-conscious of.

"As all of you know," Dumbledore told the students, "Before Malcolm came here, we knew him by a different name. And now that he is leaving, he is, literally, showing us a different face." He paused as the several students laughed. "I have a more personal reward for you, Malcolm. So please see me after the feast."

The boy nodded.

"And now, let the feast begin."

* * *

Malcolm walked up to the head table, Ron and Hermione close behind him. Waiting for him was Dumbledore, with Hagrid and Professor McGonagall on either side of him.

"You did well, Malcolm," the giant said as he walked up.

"Thank you, Hagrid."

Dumbledore smiled at Hagrid. "It was your idea. You should be the one to give him his reward."

Hagrid grinned in embarrassment. "Well, Malcolm, it's like this . . ."

"Just give it to him," McGonagall said in a peevish voice, causing Hagrid to grin even more.

Hagrid pulled a book from beneath his coat and handed it to Malcolm. "Ye always said how ye never knew yer parents. So I talked to a lot of frien's of James and Lily, and got ye this."

Malcolm opened the book. It was a photograph album. The first page had his name in large letters followed by the words "born as," and then his birth name and the name of his birth parents. Then followed the words, "adopted by," and the name of his mom and dad.

"I talked to Lois and Hal, too," Hagrid told him.

Malcolm turned the page and saw two photographs side by side. He knew at once what they were. The last picture taken of him in Godric Hollow, in England. His parents were holding him, and obviously whispering wonderful things to him.

The second picture was almost the same. It was the first picture taken in the States. His parents were holding him, and obviously whispering wonderful things to him. Only his parents' faces were different. The looks were exactly the same.

_And that's it. I never figured out how to change my hair color so it gets to stay black. Mom says that really was its original color so I don't mind. And I decided to keep the glasses, but I'll still wear contacts on special occasions, like Quidditch matches._

_You know what else I realized. Deep down, Mom and Dad are just like my birth parents. They love me. Except I don't think my birth parents would have yelled at me as much._

"Malcolm," Lois said frostily, "Hagrid told me that you were teasing his dog?"

"Oh, you must mean Fluffy? We were just playing and he got a little worked up. That's all."

"Really? Then why don't you prove it."

"Sure. I'll owl Hagrid and ask if we can visit."

_Did I ever tell you? I love going to a school of magic._


	26. Wednesday Addams and the Sorcerer's Ston...

A/N: At one time I had this wonderful idea for a story. I managed to write three chapters, all of which are here, but couldn't figure out how to write the rest of it. If you are like me, you will find the third chapter stilted. By the time I finished writing it, I felt I was merely copying out of the book and changing names. I set it aside and went on to other things. But I do think I gave it a great closing line.

Wednesday Addams and the Sorcerer's Stone

by Hibob

Disclaimer: Don't own nothin', nope, not a thing.

CHAPTER ONE: HOME IN ON WHERE THE HEART IS

Morticia was in the atrium, pleasantly snipping the horrid buds from the rose bushes, when she heard her name being called.

"What is it, Grandmama," she asked as she came into the main room. She saw her daughter standing there with a scowl on her face. "Has something happened?" she asked with sudden worry.

"What's this I hear, Cara Mia?" Gomez Addams asked as he walked into the room. "Has something happened to our darling daughter?"

"It has," Grandmama cackled. "I spotted Wednesday doing magic. She didn't mean to, but she did it."

Morticia smiled. "How wonderful, Mon Cher. Our little daughter is a witch."

"Morticia, you spoke French," Gomez said, rushing to her and kissing her hand.

"The proud Addams family tradition is upheld for another generation," Gomez stated proudly, a few minutes later.

Wednesday said nothing but deepened her scowl.

"She has to go to school," Morticia said.

"The Salem Witches Institute," Grandmama laughed, "My old Alma Mater."

"I thought the Addams' were barred from there."

"You're right, Tish," Gomez said. "Thanks to Cousin Iphigenia killing those teachers. Not that I can blame her. They should have known better than to flunk a convicted axe murderess."

"Are you sending me away to school?" Wednesday demanded.

"We have to, Darling," Morticia said, consolingly. "Magic is too dangerous to be left alone. You need to learn to control your powers."

"Like your Uncle Heathcliff," Gomez said, "He never went to school and look what happened to him."

"It was terrible," Grandmama told her, "He woke up one night and every wall in every room was a sunny pastel color."

"How horrible," Wednesday said with a shocked expression. "No wonder we never visit him."

"I've got it," Gomez said, "I know who to call. I haven't heard from him in years but he should still remember me." He took the phone from Thing who dialed the number.

"Hello, is Tom there? . . . No? . . . He's still recovering from that accident? What's it been, Ten years? . . . Well, give him my best when you hear from him. Is Peter there? . . . You know, that ratty little fellow, always lurking in the corners. . . . No? Is there anyone there I can talk to? . . . Oh, Who did you say you could connect me with? . . . Great!"

"I'm taking care of it, Cara Mia," Gomez said then turned back to the phone, "Hello . . . Lucius, old boy, How are you? Gomez Addams, here. . . . I have a favor to ask. It's my daughter. We've found out she's a witch, and we need to get her into a good school. Do you have any recommendations? . . . No, we're banned from there. . . . That one, too. . . . What school does your boy go to? . . . Can she go there? . . . Sure, I'll hold."

"What does he say, dear?" Morticia asked.

"He's checking the regulations for the school, It's called Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts," Morticia mused, "am amusing name when you first hear it but rather disgusting when you think about it. I like it already. What do you think, Wednesday?"

"Do I have a choice?" the girl said, testily, "If I don't, then it doesn't matter what I think, does it?"

"Do I hear suppressed anger there," said Grandmama gleefully. "Going to school will help you nurture that hate until it becomes truly threatening."

"Please do not try to cheer me, Grandmama. I'm in the middle of my pouting."

"Ah, Lucius," Gomez said into the phone, "What's the story? . . . We have to be residents? . . . Well, we do own some property over there, in the town, Hogshead or something."

"Hogsmeade, Dear." Morticia told him.

"Thank you, Dear. It's in some town called Hogsmeade. It has a great name, The Shrieking Shack. Supposed to br the most haunted place in the country, I think . . You've heard of it? Great . . . Can we use that as a residence? . . . Are you sure she can get in? . . . You're on the board? . . . Wonderful. Thanks Lucius . . . Oh, before you go, Fester was going through some things and found Tom's old diary. I thought you might like it . . . No problem, I'll have him dig it up again and we'll send it to you."

"It's done." Gomez smiled as he hung up the phone. "Our daughter will be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the fall. Lucius is having a letter of acceptance sent out right away."

"What a wonderful man," Morticia said, "I always remembered him as completely untrustworthy."

"He is," Gomez agreed. "He tried to blackmail me several times. Rumor has it he accidently blackmailed himself once."

"May I please go to my room," Wednesday said, "I'm feeling depressed, possibly suicidal."

"Of course dear," Morticia told her, "Let us know if you need anything."

"I could use some rope."

"Not a problem," Gomez said, "I'll send Fester up with some, right away.

As Wednesday left the room. Gomez pulled the cord to the servants bell."

"You rang," groaned Lurch from behind him.

"Lurch, tell Fester to get some rope and bring it up to Wednesday's room."

"Right Away," Lurch groaned as he left.

"I've got the rope," Fester said as he walked through the room, "and don't worry. I'll make sure she makes a proper noose."

"Good old Uncle Fester," Morticia sighed. "He's always looking out for the children."

"Here we are," Gomez said cheerfully, "Kings Cross Station. Shall we escort you to the platform, Wednesday."

"You could tie me in chains and drag me there," Wednesday said cheerlessly.

"We're sorry dear," Morticia told her, "You should have said something earlier."

"We'll never find enough chains at this hour," Gomez added, then said, "Look, there's Lucius."

Gomez waved as Lucius Malfoy and his son joined them. "Gomez, Morticia, It has been too long. Please, this is my son, Draco."

"What a lovely name," Morticia said, "and this is our daughter, Wednesday."

Draco looked at the dark haired girl with the long pigtails and said, "Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand.

Wednesday looked at the lean blond haired boy and said, "What is that?"

"It's my hand," Draco said.

Wednesday looked at the hand, then stared at the boy and asked tonelessly, "Do you want to keep it?"

Draco swallowed hard and lowered his hand.

"Look at that, Mon Cher," Morticia said, "Wednesday has made her first friend."

"Morticia, you spoke French."

"What is that?" Wednesday asked as she saw the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

"It's called a train," Draco said without enthusiasm, then smiled innocently as the girl tried to stare him down.

"Why is it that awful color? It looks cheerful and . . . cute. I hate cute." Wednesday turned back to Draco and added, "I think you're cute."

Draco dared to laugh, "You're wearing pigtails, and you call me cute."

"Point taken," Wednesday said, and scowled again. She was proud of her scowling.

"Would you like to share a compartment?" Draco offered.

"No."

"Great," Draco said, and took off to find his friends.

CHAPTER TWO: WITH A HELPING HAND

"Excuse me," a boy asked as Wednesday removed a box from her trunk, "I've lost my toad. Have you seen him?"

"Your toad?" Wednesday asked, letting the boy know how pathetic he sounded. "I'm surprised you're allowed to have one."

"It's about the only thing I'm allowed to have," the boy answered sullenly.

"At least you're honest about being a failure. I might as well help you find it. Does it have a name?"

"Trevor, and I'm Neville, uh, Longbottom."

"Wednesday Addams," the girl said, refusing to shake hands. "Please, put your hand down. You look like an idiot holding it up like that."

"I thought we would shake hands."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends?"

"Are we?"

"Yes," Neville said, uncertainly, "You're helping me find Trevor."

Wednesday looked at the thick-headed boy and gave up trying to argue. She shook his hand, and Neville's face lit up in relief. Quickly letting go, she picked up the box and headed in one direction while the pathetic boy followed her

"How could I?" Wednesday cursed, "I made friends with a moron." Consoling herself, she said, "at least he's an agreeable type. He'll agree with me if I tell him to." She opened the door to a compartment and asked the two boys inside, using her best bossy voice, "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Then she noticed the red haired boy had his wand out.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Do you mind if I watch?" Wednesday asked, sitting down as though she owned the compartment.

"Uh, sure," the boy answered, and he recited the spell, "Sunshine Daisies, Butter Mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

"How impressive," Wednesday drawled, "I hope that someday I can perform magic as well as you can. Oh, wait, I don't know any magic. That means I already can."

The black-haired boy started laughing as his friend went red in the face. Then the red haired boy went from angry/embarrassed to confused. "You're an American."

"No. I only live there," Wednesday said, as though it was the truth."

"Doesn't that make you an American," the black-haired boy asked, "After all, if you lived in Australia, you would be an Australian."

"How clever you are," Wednesday said, smiling, "But I have to be English to go to this school (she shuddered) and so I am."

"I follow that," The red head said, clearly lying.

"I'm Harry, by the way," the black haired boy said, "Harry Potter."

Wednesday was clearly annoyed, "What is it with you people. Every time I stop to talk to someone, they introduce themselves."

"You've got to be kidding?" the red head said. "Do you think they might want to know who they're talking to?"

"Why? I don't," Wednesday told him, then looked surprised as Harry smirked. "Oh, all right, I'm Wednesday Addams," she added in an annoyed tone.

"Ron Weasley," the red head offered.

"I"m Neville," Neville said from the doorway.

"We know," Ron said, "You told us earlier, and we still don't know where your frog is."

"It's a toad," Neville said in a hurt voice.

"Sorry," Ron apologized, trying to hide the fact that he was annoyed, although he wasn't sure what he was annoyed about.

A knocking noise was heard from the box Wednesday was holding in her lap. As everyone watched, the box opened by itself and a hand came out holding a toad."

"TREVOR," Neville cried out in delight, and took the toad from the proffered hand. "Thank you, uh . . ."

"Thing," Wednesday supplied.

"Thank you, Thing," Neville said happily if a bit nervously because he was talking to a hand in a box. Thing made an OK sign with its fingers and retreated into the box.

"Thing," Wednesday called, and the hand reopened the box, "My hat wasn't packed with my other school supplies. Could you check to see if it was left behind."

The hand disappeared into the box, closing the lid behind it. It opened the box moments later and came out holding a black pointed hat."

"Thank you, Thing," Wednesday said, and the box closed again.

"That was amazing," Harry said, as Wednesday stood up, then quickly apologized when the girl glared at him. ""I'm sorry. I've haven't seen much magic before. I guess everything is amazing to me."

Wednesday paused, uncertain at the tone Harry used. She could handle bumbling idiots like Neville or . . . Ron, even obnoxious people like Draco. But there was something about Harry. Something she was not familiar with. Instead of smirking at him, she gave the black-haired boy an amused smile. "I understand the students are divided into houses. Do you know which house you want to go to?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Harry said. "Ron has brothers at Hogwarts. He'd have a better idea than me."

Ron eyed the girl suspiciously. "Well, everyone in my family has gone to Gryffindor. I guess that's where I'll end up."

Wednesday nodded and smiled, which made Ron shrink back into his seat, but Harry returned her smile. This time it held something that seemed almost familiar.

"I suppose I will see you at school," she said. She returned to her own compartment, happy that the other boy did not follow, and began to read from one of her books, "Murder and Mayhem and Magic." It was an collection of stories about some of the ghastliest murders in the wizarding world, and Wednesday found herself chuckling frequently as her good mood quickly returned. Then she heard a scream coming from the two boys' compartment.

She walked briskly and looked through the open doorway as Ron was picking his rat up from the floor, holding it by the tail. "Oh, you killed your rat. Were you still hungry?"

"He's not dead," Ron said angrily, "He's only unconscious."

"Perhaps you had better let me do it."

Ron quickly hugged Scabbers to his chest. "I don't want him killed."

At Wednesday's confused look, Harry explained, "It was Malfoy. He and his friends tried to start a fight."

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked.

"At Diagon Alley. He struck me as the unpleasant type, and I guess I was right."

"I could have told you that," Wednesday said. "You didn't have to guess."

"YOU know Malfoy?" Ron asked in surprise, then wondered why he should be surprised.

"Our fathers did business with each other years ago, and Draco Malfoy's father," she added in disgust, "personally sent me my invitation to Hogwarts. Of course, I know him."

"You don't seem happy about knowing him," Harry said with amusement.

"Neither do you," Wednesday replied in mock surprise. "Isn't that interesting."

Harry laughed at her remark, and even Ron smiled a bit.

"We're almost to the train station," she added, "The two of you had better get ready."

As she left, Wednesday turned around and looked at Ron saying, "By the way. You have dirt on your nose. Right there." She left the compartment happily as Ron scowled at her.

Wednesday dutifully exited the train dressed in her witches robes, happy that they were at least a proper color. She thought the hat stupid but could see no way around that since she had foolishly agreed to abide by the rules of the school. She followed the call of the giant for all first years to enter the boats. Eyeing him carefully she asked as she walked past him, "Does anyone ever fall out of the boats?"

"Aye, but the giant squid takes care of 'em."

Wednesday smiled at the idea and thought about pushing someone in, to see if the giant was telling the truth. She spotted Harry in front of her, and a different thought crossed her mind. She followed the boy she found so mysterious, and stepped into the same boat with him and Ron. Her old plan was half forgotten when Neville stepped into the boat with them. He smiled weakly at Wednesday, not even cringing when she smiled back. It was obvious he didn't know about the giant squid.

The right moment had come. Neville had turned to look at the other boats. Wednesday was about to give him the slight push he needed when Harry said something unusual. "This is fantastic." All thoughts of Neville were forgotten as she suddenly understood what it was she saw in Harry. It was ignorance. For some reason, Harry was ignorant of Magic even though he had it in his blood. (His parents were in the book she read.) But Harry was also ignorant about most things that even she, in her pampered lifestyle, took for granted. She decided that she would become his teacher, to help him preserve the healthy open-minded attitude he already had.

By the time Wednesday remembered about Neville, the boats had already docked.

CHAPTER THREE: HOGWARTS

Wednesday's disappointment with the school was growing every minute. Her first view from the lake was of a fairy tale castle, the kind where armored knights strode forth to harass innocent dragons. The old stone steps leading to the main door were drab and the door itself was old and wooden, but these were small things compared to the whole atmosphere of the place. Wednesday wondered how they had made the exterior bright without making it nicely stark at the same time. She sighed to herself. This was going to be like her regular school.

Inside, it was much better. The new students were ushered into a long cavernous entranceway where an old woman, who called herself Professor McGonagall, led them to a small room off of the Great Hall, then explained how the houses worked. When the lady mentioned Slytherin, Wednesday noticed that Draco Malfoy smiled and made a comment to his friends.

"I definitely do not want to be in Slytherin," she muttered.

"All the bad ones go to Slytherin," Ron said, then started as he noticed who he was talking to.

"All of us?" Wednesday mused.

Harry turned around and gave her a cheerful grin. "Maybe some of us will be lucky. Right, Ron?"

"Harry, don't encourage her?" Ron whispered.

Harry gave a wry smile which looked so funny, that Wednesday found herself laughing.

"Is there something funny?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Yes," Wednesday started to say.

"No, Ma'am," Ron said quickly.

"No?" Wednesday asked.

"NO," Ron insisted, which caused everyone to laugh.

"Well, please decide," McGonagall said, "You will be sorted momentarily. As soon as I come back for you."

"Thanks," a boy with an Irish accent said to Ron, "I was getting nervous. That helped me to . . . Aaahh!"

"What a curious phrase," Wednesday said, as others began to yell and jump. Ghosts had begun floating through one wall and across the room toward the main hall. Most of them looked normal, except for being dead, and they were very polite. Wednesday was disappointed. She did hear a fat ghost suggest Hufflepuff, and said to herself, "I definitely do not want to go to Hufflepuff."

Professor McGonagall returned, organized all of the new students alphabetically, and escorted them into the Great Hall. Everyone was impressed by the ceiling which reflected the night sky, the thousands of floating candles, the banners and everything else in sight. Even one dark-haired girl with pigtails was lost for words. She did not like everything she saw, but she did not hate it either. It was all . . . different.

The first years stood in line before the Sorting Hat as it sang a welcoming song that Wednesday quickly became bored with, after the novelty of a talking hat was ruined by the mediocrity of the lyrics. She consoled herself with the thought that the hat must get tired, singing the same song year after year. Then "Abbott, Hannah," was called, and the first girl in line walked up to the stool, picked up the hat and put it on her head as she sat down.

"Hufflepuff," the Hat called out after a few seconds and Abbott, Hannah removed the hat as she stood up, put it on the stool as directed, and walked briskly to the table of cheering students.

"Addams, Wednesday," Professor McGonagall called out, and Wednesday stepped forward and repeated the process. As she put the hat on she heard a small voice whisper in her ear. "You have a strong will, and you know exactly what you want. It took a great deal of courage for you to come here, so we'll put you in . . . GRYFFINDOR." The Hat shouted the last word and, as she took the hat off, Wednesday noticed the far left table was cheering her. Placing the hat on the stool she began walking toward her new housemates. She paused to look at Harry and give him an encouraging smile, and once again to give Ron a wide grin. She was in a very good mood when she sat down.

When the Professor called out Harry's name, everyone grew silent and began whispering. Wednesday had to ask why?

"You know Harry Potter?" Percy the prefect asked.

"We met on the train."

"And you don't know? He's the Boy Who Lived. When You Know Who killed his parents he tried to kill that boy, and failed."

"I read about it," Wednesday admitted, "but I didn't know it was that significant. Who is You Know Who?"

"I'll tell you later," Percy said nervously, and looked up as the Sorting Hat called out, "GRYFFINDOR."

It seemed as though everyone in the school was cheering. Two red-haired twins stood on their seats and began shouting, "We Got Potter! We Got Potter!" Harry came over to the table and sat down across from Wednesday, giving her a big grin, which she returned, and then proceeded to shake hands with everyone at the table until they were all satisfied. Wednesday thought it was wonderful how he dealt with his discomfort. She would never have bothered to be that nice, but then she knew how to handle herself.

When Ron arrived at the table it was anticlimactic. His brothers made themselves known as they tried to embarrass him as much as possible.

Things began to get better. The Headmaster stood up to say a few words, and rattled off a small stream of nonsense. It was obvious that he was demented, a perfect choice in Wednesday's mind for someone in charge of a school.

Then the food appeared. None of it was moving, but that was to be expected. Wednesday had eaten in many a school cafeteria. There was enough of a variety that she could find something she liked well enough but Grandmama's cooking would be sorely missed.

The feast ended, to be almost ruined by the appearance of deserts, Harry talked her into trying one of the treacle tarts. She did, and found that if she ignored the sweetness it had a pleasant taste. She solved the problem of the sweetness by adding pepper to it. When the desserts where finished, and all of the plates cleared, the Headmaster rose to give a few announcements. Hearing about the dark forests was good news, as well as the threat about the third floor corridor, but then they were told to sing the school song.

Dumbledore told the students they could choose their own tunes, and Wednesday chose a silent chant. Most students chose saccharine tunes that matched the desserts, but to her delight, two students had a better idea then hers. The Weasley Twins were singing a funeral dirge. It was so mournful and pathetic that Wednesday fell in love with both of them.

"They always do things like that," Percy said in disgust.

"Really?" Wednesday asked happily as she followed the prefect to the Gryffindor common room. The thought began to form in her mind that she might enjoy going to this school after all. Spying Neville Longbottom, she sighed happily. She even had someone to play with.


End file.
